Moment of Truth

by Michael Pryor

  Twenty-six

  Racks of pipe fittings separated them from the large, blocky machines that George had spotted. They had to step over discarded implements, dropped in the haste to escape the imaginary fire. Aubrey didn’t blame the workers. Factory fires had caused huge loss of life in Albion and around the world where factory owners put profits ahead of safety. Crowding workers into poorly ventilated, appallingly lit facilities was only the start. Add highly inflammable materials and the lack of easy exit, and the results were nearly always disastrous. Aubrey had heard of workers trapped by flames choosing to leap from tall buildings, rather than waiting for a fiery end.

  ‘Clay,’ George said and Aubrey saw that his friend was standing in front of a large bin set against a brick wall. It was nearly a small room, four or five yards across, open at the front to allow access, and it was half-full.

  Glancing around first to make sure they were alone, Aubrey joined his friend. He flexed his hands and a lively glittering slipped over his skin. He squatted and took some of the clay between his fingers. ‘It’s potentialised clay, the same as the sample Madame Zelinka’s friends found.’

  ‘Two and two coming together?’ George asked him as he straightened and wiped his hands on his trousers.

  ‘So it would seem.’ He approached the nearest machine. It looked substantially different from the one he’d seen under the palace in the heart of Fisherberg – and the one he’d managed to procure and ship to Albion.

  This machine was about ten feet tall, and solid as a pile driver. Huge cables ran from the ceiling, connecting it to what must be a substantial electricity supply. The front of the machine could have looked crowded, but to Aubrey’s eyes it was an elegant display of dials, levers and wheels, featuring brass that had been polished to a high finish. Two large brass handles showed where the drawer and the hopper were, but Aubrey paused, scratching his chin. The more he studied the machine, the more different it looked. The conveyor belt entering one side, for instance, looked big enough to transport a motorcar. The previous model of golem maker had nothing like that.

  Aubrey peered at a bank of switches. They were labelled in Holmlandish, but the labels didn’t make anything clear at all. ‘Process 1’, ‘Splice’, ‘Optimise’. And what did ‘Overgrossing’ mean?

  George had taken up station at the nearest window, making sure he couldn’t be seen from outside. ‘All clear?’ Aubrey asked.

  ‘They’re assembling on the parade ground. Nice, neat ranks. No movement this way.’

  They still had some time, but Aubrey started as the pocket of his jacket began flapping, all by itself.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ came a commanding voice. Aubrey stiffened, but the voice immediately added, with a slight note of disappointment, ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  ‘Hello, Caroline,’ George said. ‘Sophie! I’m glad we found you.’

  Caroline and Sophie were both wearing the black pyjama suits that were Caroline’s fighting outfits, the design suggested by an Oriental friend of Caroline’s father. The sleeves and legs of Sophie’s were rolled up. Caroline had a pistol, but it vanished when she recognised Aubrey and George.

  Aubrey put his hand into his jacket pocket and grasped the leaping ring. With a quick whisper, he cancelled the spell, and was about to hand the ring back to George when he saw that this was not a good time to interrupt.

  Sophie took a hesitant step toward George. Her eyes were shining. George looked pained, then abashed, then he held out his hands to her.

  The doubts that Aubrey had been harbouring disappeared. He hadn’t liked thinking that Sophie had simply been using George to gain access to the facility and her brother – but the doubts George raised had been niggling at him.

  I’m spending too much time in this world, he thought. I see duplicity everywhere I look.

  Sophie took George’s hands and she dropped her gaze, before lifting it again and adding her other hand to the arrangement, squeezing his tightly.

  Aubrey was happy for his friend, and for Sophie. They stood for a moment, wordless, and Aubrey had the feeling that words were superfluous.

  He knew that their hearts were thumping, painfully, and that it was hard to breathe, as if their chests were being squeezed. He understood that where they touched, the clasping of hands, was something extraordinary – but something to be experienced again and again.

  At least, that’s how it was for him with Caroline. When he allowed himself. When it caught him by surprise. When it swept him away despite all his best intentions to honour the pact of reserve they’d agreed on.

  He took off his cap and ran his hand through his unfamiliar short hair, feeling it thick and sleek like fur, and stole a glance, only to see that Caroline was looking at him carefully. Although she had no magical ability, he was convinced that – at times – she was able to read his mind, so he coughed, rubbed his face with his hands and made a great show of seeing the controls of the machine for the first time. Not his best spot of acting, but he hoped it was a reasonable piece of improvisation.

  He crouched and tapped a knob that looked as if it had something to do with pressure, and was about to go looking for a steam inlet, when he understood – in a way that approached magic, but wasn’t – that Caroline was standing behind him. Closely behind him.

  ‘Aubrey.’

  He straightened and spent some time dusting off his trousers and the sleeves of his jacket. It didn’t matter that it was obvious what he was doing, or that Caroline knew exactly what was going on.

  ‘Leave the pattern on,’ she said lightly.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘It’s what my father always used to say if we were scrubbing something too hard. Leave the pattern on. It’s a joke.’

  ‘Ah. Forgive me if I don’t laugh.’

  She took his arm. ‘I will if you come with me.’

  Anywhere! his traitor mouth nearly blurted, but he managed to nod. ‘You’ve found something?’

  ‘You’re looking for a steam pipe, aren’t you? I think it’s on the other side of this apparatus.’ She glanced at where George and Sophie were speaking in low tones, hands clasped between them at chin height. Chin height on Sophie. Somewhere near mid-chest on George.

  Sometimes it took a cricket bat to the back of the head, but on this occasion Aubrey saw what was going on straight away. ‘Right. Steam pipe. Indeed.’

  His head started to angle toward the murmuring couple again but Caroline put a finger on his cheek and turned it away. ‘Now, Aubrey.’

  He followed Caroline willingly, still feeling the spot where Caroline had touched him as a bloom of warmth that he was quite happy to become accustomed to.

  Behind the machine the electric lights were poorly positioned and shadows reigned, hiding details and making everything look ominous. Even so, he could make out a large bore pipe that entered the rear, well lagged to keep the heat in.

  ‘Where were you?’ he said as he squatted at the junction of the brass shut-off valve.

  ‘We found our way in here early, when there weren’t many people around. It must have been a change of shift, for it started to get crowded. Too crowded. We stood out.’

  ‘No females,’ Aubrey said. All the soldiers and white coats he’d seen were male.

  ‘Quite, and Sophie’s magic was fading so we found a place to hide. An old boiler, destined for scrap, I’d imagine. We crept inside and waited our chance.’

  ‘Which I provided.’ Aubrey had visions of the boiler being carted away with Caroline and Sophie inside. He shuddered.

  ‘We would have thought of something if you hadn’t appeared.’

  ‘I’m sure you would. I didn’t mean to imply that you were helpless. Or anything like helpless.’ Aubrey bit his tongue. It was the simplest solution to his babbling. It was getting so well scarred that it barely hurt, but it served its purpose nonetheless. He took a breath. ‘And George and Sophie are now reunited.’

  ‘She was distraught, leaving him like that. She thought he�
��d assume that she had simply been using him to get to her brother.’

  ‘Ah. Yes. Well.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘He had his moments.’

  Caroline sighed. ‘Foolish.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that she wasn’t just using him,’ Aubrey said. ‘That’s what I told George.’

  ‘Well, she does want to find her brother, and running into us was a stroke of luck, but she definitely has feelings for George.’

  ‘Feelings? Like that one you get when you put your keys down and can’t quite remember where?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And you can stop projecting this onto anyone else’s situation.’

  ‘Are you thinking of anyone in particular?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see.’ He nudged this around for a moment. ‘Heavy-duty valve, this, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘I’d say that you know a heavy-duty steam valve when you see one.’ She looked at him and he tried not to show that he was aware of her scrutiny. He instantly felt awkward, as he always did when she studied him. Mainly it was because when she did, he immediately tried to make every movement impressive – or at least acceptable – to her, resulting in self-consciousness. He started to monitor every gesture, every facial expression, every word, and ending up being critical about himself because he wasn’t better than he was.

  It was a shortcut to complete madness. He was glad when she spoke. ‘Have you worked out what this machine does?’

  He stood and wiped his hands together. ‘You’ve noticed that it’s different from the one we captured?’

  ‘I’ve noticed enough to know it’s different, but not how.’

  ‘I have some idea, but we may have to see it in action before I can work it out fully.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘You obviously haven’t found Dr Tremaine. Or Sophie’s brother.’

  ‘Théo? It’s proved a little more difficult than we imagined.’

  ‘We could have helped, you know. If you’d waited.’

  ‘I thought you wouldn’t. Not part of the mission.’

  ‘Some missions don’t always go as planned.’ He winced as he remembered another mission that had definitely gone awry.

  ‘So if I had waited, you would have come with us?’

  ‘Was there any real doubt?’

  Caroline stiffened. ‘I’ve jeopardised our mission.’

  ‘Let’s just say you showed extraordinary initiative. I’m sure that’s what’s going in the report.’

  ‘But I didn’t pay any attention. I was headstrong, with him so close, or so I thought, I had to do something, after what he did to my father, I couldn’t...’

  ‘Caroline?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’re babbling.’

  Her eyes widening, she put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Never mind. It happens to the best of us.’ Aubrey turned away.

  Caroline was eminently sensible, which was one of the many things Aubrey loved about her. Of course, she was eminently non-sensible at times and he loved that too. And her stubborn, contrary, froward ways.

  His jaw dropped. When did I start using the ‘love’ word?

  ‘Did I say something, Aubrey? You look as if you’re getting ready to swallow a pumpkin.’

  He shook his head mutely.

  She held up a hand. ‘I think George and Sophie have had enough time for their reconciliation. Then we can see what we can do about our triple objectives.’

  ‘Triple?’

  ‘Finding Dr Tremaine. Finding Théo. Going home.’

  George was looking rather pleased with himself, and he seemed a few inches taller as well. Aubrey had the notion that his friend was probably bulletproof, at least for a while. Sophie was made of energy, taking notes as George described the controls of one of the golem machines.

  ‘I haven’t seen any golems around here, old man,’ George said when Aubrey and Caroline appeared from behind the machine block.

  ‘They could have been shopped out,’ Sophie said. ‘Shipped out. They may be building more.’

  Noises from the entrance end of the factory could only mean one thing. Aubrey gazed at the machines with longing. He would love to have a few days, a few weeks to plumb their intricacies, but...

  ‘We have to go.’

  ‘We cannot,’ Sophie said, distressed. ‘Not without Théo.’

  Caroline took her arm. ‘We won’t leave without finding him.’

  ‘But where?’ George asked. ‘We’ve been looking, and so have you...’

  Caroline caught Aubrey’s eye. ‘We need to share our findings.’

  ‘Excellent idea,’ Aubrey said. ‘Superb. I’ll just ask these Holmland gentlemen who are approaching for a place we can use for a plenary session.’

  Caroline smiled. ‘We found somewhere, Aubrey. This way.’

  Which is how Aubrey found himself with his friends, safe and secure in the belly of a giant concrete elephant.

  Twenty-seven

  Exiting the factory was a matter of careful slinking. This was assisted by the arguing going on in the ranks of first Holmlanders to re-enter. Accusations accompanied finger-pointing among Holmland officers and Aubrey was relieved to hear that the argument centred about the way the fire alarms were unreliable and subject to misuse.

  Caroline and Sophie flitted from pillar to press to stamping machine, neatly avoiding the soldiers and white coats who were generally relaxed, giving every sign of having enjoyed the break. Aubrey and George followed as best as they could.

  The giant concrete animals were in the garden behind the original building. Aubrey imagined that in the past they’d been brightly painted and impressive, but neglect had left them weather-beaten and sad, despite their monumental size. Once upon a time, these beasts were marvelled at, gazed at in awe, but they had come upon hard times. Paint flaked from a lion the size of a small bungalow. The giraffe could peer into the third story of the buildings around it, but the only colour it had left was a patch of yellow on its rump. The zebra, the crocodile, the elephant and the rest of the stony menagerie stood in their grey loneliness, doing their best to be dignified.

  They were huge, and the – artist, sculptor, construction engineer? – had gone to some pains to make them as jolly as possible. All of the animals had seen better days, but Aubrey could see how they once would have charmed children. The elephant was enormous, twice the size of a real beast, but the small skull-cap (once crimson) gave it a jaunty rather than a formidable air. The other animals had similar embellishments, which removed any hint of danger and replaced it with jollity.

  Some effort had been given to the maintenance of the gardens. The lawn was well kept, the flower beds sported mature rose bushes, and waist-high box hedges divided the area into distinct regions, with benches so weary strollers could rest and admire the preposterous concrete animals.

  They used the hedges for cover until they reached the tree trunk legs of the elephant. ‘This way,’ Caroline said.

  Without hesitating, she jumped straight up and seized an iron rung that was set in the leg, a few feet over their heads. Aubrey gaped as she climbed ten feet before clinging by one arm and using a slim tool to open the locked trapdoor in the belly of the elephant.

  Sophie looked at George. ‘Please?’

  He smiled, then took her by the waist and lifted her to the first rung.

  Soon, they were gathered inside the concrete elephant, trap door shut, the only light coming through the glass panels that were its eyes.

  ‘Has anyone anything to eat?’ George asked.

  The interior of the elephant was capacious, as large as a room. Aubrey could stand upright, and even George had headroom. It wasn’t, however, cosy. The concrete was bare, uncomfortable to sit on and smelled of mildew – but it did provide them with a good view down the length of the garden and out over the parade ground toward the barracks.

  ‘Sophie found it,’ Carol
ine explained. ‘We were crossing the gardens and a squad came from the old building, which was our destination. With soldiers coming from both wings we were trapped, until Sophie looked up.’

  ‘Before leaving Lutetia,’ Sophie said, ‘I did some research in the archives of The Sentinel. When it was made, the baron’s father held a banquet inside this elephant.’

  George looked around their confines. ‘A rather small banquet, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Six friends, but the old baron brought a proper table and candles. It was most grand.’

  ‘When it was safe, we crept out and went looking for Théo,’ Caroline said.

  Sophie explained their searching, and confirmed that the blocky building on the south side was indeed the generator. They had been working their way toward the barracks when they’d been diverted into the factory.

  ‘Where we found you,’ Caroline said.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ Aubrey said. ‘But if we’re going to find Théo, let’s see if we can be a bit more sensible in our searching this time.’

  ‘Your meaning?’ Caroline said.

  ‘Let’s wait until night.’

  After they’d shared the details of their time in the factory complex – Caroline was outraged at the treatment of the wounded soldiers – George didn’t complain about hunger, not more than a dozen times or so before deciding to nap, for which Aubrey was grateful. Sophie took up a position looking out of the elephant eyes, lying on her stomach with her chin on her hands. Caroline stretched out, languorously, and went to sleep.

  Aubrey sat on the trapdoor – reasoning it might make it harder for anyone to surprise them – and thought about leadership.

  Hiding in the middle of hostile forces, separated from the Albion command structure, with no-one to consult for order, it gave him a new appreciation of the role. Ultimately, despite what Caroline said, he was responsible for the lives of his friends. In the end, after reporting, he would be held accountable. Were all the other commanders, in a multitude of situations and in all branches of the service, aware of this burden? If one thought too much about it, he imagined it could become paralysing, and the commander who didn’t do anything was a nightmare in any battle situation.