Word of Honour

• Cover
  
• Title Page
  
• Copyright Page
  
• Dedication
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Chapter Twenty-one
  
• Chapter Twenty-two
  
• Chapter Twenty-three
  
• Chapter Twenty-four
  
• About the Author
  

M
ICHAEL
P
ROYOR

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced
or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet
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(except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the
Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by
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prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any
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infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and
those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Laws of Magic 3: Word of Honour

ePub ISBN 9781864714777
Kindle ISBN 9781864717365

A Random House book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060
www.randomhouse.com.au

First published by Random House Australia in 2008
This edition first published in 2010

Copyright © Michael Pryor 2008

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or
retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the
Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information
storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of
Random House Australia.

Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at
www.randomhouse.com.au/offices.

National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry

Author: Pryor, Michael
Title:Word of honour / Michael Pryor
ISBN: 978 1 86471 864 5 (pbk.)
Series: Pryor, Michael. Laws of magic; 3
Target audience: For secondary school age
Dewey number: A823.3

Cover illustration by Jeremy Reston
Cover design by
www.blacksheep-uk.com
Internal design by Mathematics

For Agnes Nieuwenhuizen

A
UBREY
F
ITZWILLIAM WAS BUTTERING TOAST WHEN
his father strode into the dining room. 'Ah, Aubrey.
Good. I need you to help me elude the Special Services.'

Aubrey's knife hovered over the butter dish. He
glanced at George, who was enjoying a large serve of
bacon and eggs. His friend managed to shrug while
folding half a rasher into his mouth.

'Your bodyguards?'

'What's the point of being Prime Minister if I
can't nip off whenever I feel like it?' Sir Darius took
a slice of Aubrey's toast. 'So I need your skills, quick
smart.'

George snorted. 'These would be the skills of leaving
Maidstone undetected, would they?'

'Exactly, George. Skills Aubrey has honed over the
years, despite the best efforts of his parents.'

'He's got you there, old man,' George said.

Aubrey chose his words carefully. 'Without admitting
that I have these alleged skills, why do you need to leave
so abruptly?'

'Something has come up. I've found it tends to, when
one is in charge of the country.' This time it was Sir
Darius's turn to choose his words carefully. 'I need to visit
Clear Haven, post-haste.'

Aubrey's curiosity – already doing a series of warm-up
exercises – threw itself into an advanced callisthenic
routine to make sure he paid attention to it.

He'd always wanted to visit Albion's northern naval
base. While the fleet spent most of its time at Imworth
in the south, Clear Haven was where much of the
heavy development work was done. The best military
magicians – along with eminent civilian consultants –
worked at Clear Haven to produce the most effective
magical weapons. The work done at Clear Haven was
one of the reasons that Albion still ruled the waves,
despite Holmland's efforts.

'I may be able to get you out of here unnoticed,' Aubrey
said, 'but you'd have to take George and me with you.'

'Capital. I was going to ask you anyway.' Sir Darius
finished the slice of toast and took another. 'Now, what
do we do?'

T
HE LANDING HAD A FINE VIEW OF THE TELEPHONE, RIGHT
next to the front door. Aubrey watched as the more
senior of the two bodyguards – tall, dark hair, military
moustache – nodded and spoke into the mouthpiece.

'Yes, sir. Right away.'

He hung up, frowning a little, and sketched a salute to
Sir Darius, who was waiting near the foot of the stairs.
'Sorry, sir, but Crowley and I have to head straight back
to Lattimer Hall.'

The younger Special Services operative raised his
eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

'That's quite all right, Sutcliffe,' Sir Darius said. 'I've
always felt that Captain Tallis's precautions were a little
overdone, two able-bodied men guarding me in my
own home.'

'Tricky times, these, sir. Holmlanders and whatnot
about. Can't be too careful.' Sutcliffe shifted uneasily and
eyed the front door.

'You don't look happy, Sutcliffe,' Sir Darius said.
'There's no need to be concerned.'

'I know, sir. Captain Tallis said that replacements were
on their way, but we shouldn't leave before they get here.
That's not procedure.'

'I understand.' Sir Darius guided the two men to the
door. 'But, as you say, these are tricky times. We must be
flexible.'

Sir Darius stood with his back to the door once it
had closed after them. He smoothed his moustache for
a moment, then glanced up the stairs at Aubrey.
'Remarkable. How did you do it? Magic?'

Aubrey waited for George, who was hurrying down
from upstairs. 'The magic can only achieve so much. It
was George. He does a better Captain Tallis than I do.'

Aubrey didn't want to tell his father that the less
magic he did at the moment, the better. His condition
had been particularly unstable and magic made things
worse.

'I see,' his father said. 'You've been practising imitating
Captain Tallis, have you?'

'As research,' Aubrey said quickly. 'An exercise. The
Law of Similarities means that it's easier to work up a
spell to alter George's voice into Captain Tallis's than
mine. He has a deeper timbre, and I believe Tallis spent
some time in the country in his youth.'

'Country lads, both of us,' George beamed. 'Must ask
him about pigs, one day.'

'I'd like to discuss this further,' Sir Darius said, 'but we
must be off. I don't want to lose the opportunity.'

'One thing,' Aubrey said. 'How are you going to deal
with the upshot of this little deception? Won't Tallis be
furious?'

'It doesn't take much to make Tallis furious, but I take
your point.' Sir Darius thought for a moment. 'This is a
test,' he declared. 'A test of the capabilities of the Special
Services. And it seems their methods need tightening up.'

Stubbs, the Fitzwilliam family driver, was idling the
Oakleigh-Nash at the front door. The twelve-cylinder
engine rumbled with the sleek power that only came from
the best magically enhanced valves. 'Ormsby Square,'
Sir Darius said when they'd flung the doors closed.

Stubbs accelerated smoothly and they were out of the
gates into the traffic.

Sir Darius settled back into the accommodating
leather seat; he gazed out of the window.

'Clive Rokeby-Taylor is joining us, isn't he?' Aubrey
said suddenly.

Sir Darius turned to him. 'Your reasoning?'

'We're off to Clear Haven. Rokeby-Taylor has
substantial shipbuilding concerns. And we're going to
Ormsby Square, which isn't on the way to the
ornithopter port. Exclusive area. Rokeby-Taylor is its
most notorious inhabitant.'

'Notorious?'

'George often mentions his name when he's trawling
through the gossip columns. Gambler, racing enthusiast,
attractor of scandals.'

'Number seventeen is renowned for exotic parties,'
George said. 'And Rokeby-Taylor is rarely seen without
a famous actress or two on his arm. Different ones each
time, of course. On different arms.'

'Hmm.' Sir Darius crossed his arms. 'Clive Rokeby-Taylor and I were at school together.'

This was news to Aubrey, but he wasn't surprised –
there was much about the past of both his parents that
was a mystery. Not deliberately so – it was just that they
had led such varied lives that minor details like this often
surfaced at unexpected times. 'At Stonelea?'

'We shared rooms in our last year, then we went on to
university. St Alban's College, where you two are headed.'

'You've never mentioned him.'

'We lost touch. We've been at the same functions at
the same time, but I haven't actually spoken to him for
ten years. Ships that pass in the night and all that.'

'He's very successful,' George said. 'Shipbuilding,
electricity generation, chemical manufacture.' He caught
Aubrey's look. 'I do read more than the gossip pages,
you know.'

'So we
are
meeting Rokeby-Taylor?' Aubrey said to his
father.

'One of his firms has been working with the Navy
Board on a top secret project. He's asked me to go
with him to Clear Haven on some sort of demonstration
jaunt.'

'A top secret
jaunt
?'

'Clive's word, not mine. And that sums him up. Life is
a jaunt to him, which is why it comes as a surprise to
find him engaged in such serious matters as defence
contracting.' Sir Darius frowned. 'Even though he calls
this expedition a jaunt, it is serious, because of our
circumstances.'

'The war,' Aubrey said simply.

'The war that we hope and pray will not happen,'
Sir Darius said.

'The war that seems inevitable,' George added.

Sir Darius sighed. 'Sadly, that seems to be the case.
The situation on the continent continues to worsen.
Holmland ambitions, border disputes in the Goltans . . .
To call the continent a powder keg is rather underestimating
affairs.'

'And how has Rokeby-Taylor come into this?' Aubrey
asked.

'I authorised a special program, part of our efforts to
update our fleet. This special program allocated funds for
development of advanced units.'

'Magical units,' Aubrey guessed.

'Magical enhancement would be part of any innovative
military development, most likely. This has been encouraged
for some time, after all. Remember Banford Park?'

Aubrey nodded. Banford Park was the research facility
near Prince Albert's country residence. Aubrey and
George had had several scrapes there, and it was where
Dr Mordecai Tremaine had taken Sir Darius after
kidnapping him.

'Rokeby-Taylor's companies have participated in this
program?'

'Apparently. Always good at sniffing out money, was
Clive. I had no idea of his involvement until he telephoned
late last week.'

Aubrey was silent for a moment. He caught George's
eye and saw the puzzlement there that he felt himself. He
considered a number of indirect approaches, but then
decided a frontal sortie was best. 'Sir? It seems a little odd,
the Prime Minister slipping off like this after a telephone
call from an old friend he hasn't spoken to for a decade.'

Sir Darius grinned. 'It does, doesn't it?' He leaned
forward and rubbed his hands together. 'To tell the truth,
I simply needed to do something out of the ordinary.
Prime Ministership can become rather staid, even in
these times. Besides, I'd heard so much about Rokeby-
Taylor over the years that once we spoke, my curiosity
wouldn't leave me alone until we met again.'

Something else you've handed down to me
, Aubrey
thought. As a family heirloom, this curiosity was a mixed
blessing. It often sent him in directions that others
wouldn't have noticed, but at its worst it was almost a
physical itch, an acute discomfort impossible to ignore.

This time, however, it was suspicion rather than
curiosity that prodded him. 'Ten years, an old friend
reappearing . . . what could be more natural than wanting
to meet?'

'But you're not convinced?'

'Look for the reason behind the reason, you've always
advised.'

Sir Darius nodded his approval and Aubrey felt a
moment of deep satisfaction. 'Very impressive, Aubrey.'
He sat back and steepled his hands. 'Would it interest you
to know that the week before Rokeby-Taylor got in
touch with me, both Craddock and Tallis have asked me
about him?'

Tallis, Aubrey could understand. The Special Services
had the responsibility for all clandestine affairs, espionage
and intelligence gathering. The head of a major
defence contractor would naturally be of interest to
them. But Craddock? What would the Magisterium
want with Rokeby-Taylor?

'Are his companies using magic at all?'

'Rokeby-Taylor has recently been hiring a number of
outstandingly talented magicians.'

Snap. This sort of direction would bring any company
to the Magisterium's attention. Rokeby-Taylor sounded
as if he was a man to keep an eye on.

'A modern businessman, is he?' Aubrey asked.
'Working with magic like this?'

'He's always been interested in magic. He showed
some talent early on. After college, he studied overseas
for a few years. I heard he took some advanced magic
courses, but never finished. The good life was too attractive
to him.'

Aubrey found this an interesting insight into Rokeby-Taylor's character. The ability to use magic was much like
the ability to do mathematics. The best magicians had
natural aptitude, but it took study and discipline to
achieve true competence. Aubrey had seen young people
with only moderate magical ability become good magicians
through dedication and hard work – and he'd seen
talented boys at Stonelea squander their gifts through
lack of application.

In Aubrey's view, a magician needed a number of
attributes: facility with languages, strong will, adaptability,
fearlessness, and an ability to deal with the unexpected.
Most only had a few of these and their shortcomings
usually found them out.

Still, if Rokeby-Taylor could bring magic and
engineering together, good luck to him.

'He's always been in a hurry,' Sir Darius continued.
'Juggling a hundred things at once. But when he rang,
he sounded positively urgent.'

Busy times
, Aubrey thought. In the next month, a
number of important events were imminent: a major
defence-spending bill in Parliament, the birthday of the
Elektor of Holmland, the Counting of the Coins – and
Ophelia Hepworth's exhibition opening.

Immediately, his thoughts went to Caroline. He hoped
that she was safe on his mother's Arctic expedition. For a
moment, disappointment and guilt circled him like
hungry ravens, but he pushed them away by imagining
the multitude of things that could go wrong in the polar
regions – and how he could possibly effect a miraculous
rescue.

Stubbs interrupted Aubrey's musings. 'Here we are, sirs.
Ormsby Square. Number seventeen, was it?'