Word of Honour (37 page)

'But not incorrect,' George said.

Aubrey kept a straight face. He could only think of
one person who could bring about such a rapprochement
between the two men. He hoped his reports had
been of assistance to his father in this matter.

'Some other news we thought you'd like to know,' Tallis
said. 'Count Brandt and his people have all been arrested.'

'You've taken them into custody? What for?'

'Ah. You haven't heard?' Tallis said. '
We
didn't arrest
them.'

'At their request, Count Brandt and a number of his
most influential people were conveyed to a remote part
of the Holmland coast in a submersible, in order to arrive
undetected,' Craddock said. 'The Rokeby-Taylor experimental
submersible.'

'The
Electra
? How on earth did they organise that?'

'Rokeby-Taylor,' Tallis said. 'Before his demise and
exposure, he still had influence. He had an audience with
the King and apparently explained how brave and noble
Brandt and his crowd were. With royal backing, Rokeby-
Taylor was able to convince the navy that Brandt should
have the blasted thing.'

'Their plan was to meet with the leaders of this Circle,
the secret opposition group in Holmland,' Tallis said.
'Arriving undetected was vital, so they could spend time
gathering their strength, meeting key people, planning
and so on.'

Aubrey had that most useless of premonitions – one
that happens just a split-second before the event. He
knew what Craddock was about to say.

'The Circle was a hoax. It was carefully constructed by
a branch of the Holmland intelligence services to appear
like a real, functioning dissident group. It meant that they
were able to know exactly what Count Brandt and his
crowd were up to, and move in on them as appropriate.
They've been taken and the experimental submersible
captured.'

Aubrey's heart sank. All those innovations, financed by
Albion, built by the best Albion minds, now in the hands
of Holmland. He now saw that the first attempt on
Count Brandt's life – the thunderstorm spell – was just a
way of nudging Count Brandt into action. Nothing like
a deadly attack to make someone feel their foes meant
business – and that they needed counter-attacking.

Craddock nodded. 'I have a suspicion that the whole
business with Count Brandt and the Circle was really a
ruse to get hold of the submersible. First, they tried to
destroy it, but someone must have suggested this complex
plan to steal it.'

'Complex plan. That's a synonym for "Dr Tremaine",
isn't it?' Aubrey rubbed his temples. 'How were Count
Brandt and his people captured?'

Tallis glowered with, it appeared, some pleasure. 'The
Great Manfred was with them. He promised to introduce
them to key members of the Circle, but instead he
handed them over. He'd been in constant contact with a
branch of their intelligence agencies.'

Aubrey's head spun. 'Wait. Manfred was one of ours.
A counter-spy.'

'So we thought,' Tallis said. He glanced at Craddock.
'It seemed he was playing a double game.'

'A double-double game,' Aubrey corrected absently,
as his mind raced through the implications. He felt
suddenly chill when he remembered how Manfred was
eager to get him to Fisherberg.

Perhaps there were four plans to get at the Prime
Minister through those closest to him.

George snorted. 'I don't know what the world's
coming to. If you can't trust a counter-spy, who can
you trust?'

'Brandt was sending money to the Circle,' Aubrey said.
'With the best intentions.'

Tallis and Craddock both looked pained. 'A great deal
of money,' Craddock said. 'It was a superb scheme.'

'All's not lost. The money we've been pouring into
the Holmland treasury this way will be balanced neatly
by the fairy gold the
Imperator
is taking over there,'
Tallis said.

'The
Imperator
is on its way?' Aubrey said.

'A lovely birthday present for the Elektor,' Craddock
said.

'What about Count Brandt?' George asked. 'What
about his people?'

'They're in Harsgard Prison,' Tallis said bleakly.

Aubrey knew that Harsgard Prison was notorious for
'incidents'. Many who went into the place never left.

Craddock took out a notebook. 'On more magical
matters – if you'll excuse us, Tallis – you haven't had any
more thoughts on the nature of the magic Dr Tremaine
was wielding?'

It had also been the Magisterium who'd freed
Maggie's Crew. After painstaking, meticulous work, they
were removed from the array through a combination of
careful stabilising magic and delicate engineering, but
their recovery needed long-term treatment. They were
still in the care of the specialised team at St Michael's
Hospital, but the latest outlook was positive.

Other squads of Magisterium operatives had spread
through the under-city, mapping Tremaine's tunnels
and beginning the work of disconnecting his underground
web. Trinovant had experienced more than the
usual number of disruptions to trains, water and electricity,
but in a city where grumbling was as natural as breathing,
it simply made everyone feel vaguely satisfied that
they had a hard lot.

'On urbomancy?' Aubrey said. 'I want to do some
more research. It might be important, it might be nothing.
I'll need more time.'
And the assistance of Professor Mansfield,
when she gets back after her little job
.

Professor Mansfield had been only too happy to return
the Rashid Stone to her good friend the Sultan, especially
after Aubrey showed her the mysterious fragment.
She was just as fervent in her desire to return the stone
to its rightful owners as Lady Rose was.

'I see,' Craddock said. 'And your status as irregular
operative, you're happy with that?'

Aubrey thought for a moment. 'I wouldn't mind some
more training and some access to the Magisterium's
resources.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

At that moment, a hubbub broke out from the direction
of the street. Aubrey was automatically alert, but he
relaxed when he saw his parents mounting the stairs.

Sir Darius greeted Craddock and Tallis as if he
had expected them to be there. On reflection, Aubrey
thought that was probably the case.

'Hello, Mother,' he said. He kissed her cheek.
'Interested in seeing experiments with space and
perspective?'

'Hello, Aubrey. Are you eating properly? I heard you
were ill and had to miss some classes this week.'

'Three times a day, as prescribed. Feeling much better.'

'Is this true, George?'

George blushed, as was his wont when in the presence
of Lady Rose. 'True? Rather. Three meals, one after the
other. Made him ox-like in the health stakes.'

Lady Rose looked sceptically at both of them. 'Then
you need more vegetables, Aubrey. See to it.' She leaned
close. 'Your father has told me about your latest exploit.

I'm proud, and he is too.'

'He is?'

'He may tell you. He may not. Sometimes he thinks
that too much praise is not helpful for a young person.
I argue that unearned praise is the problem, but credit
where credit is due is my policy.'

Sir Darius offered his arm to his wife. 'To the paintings?'

'Of course. That's what we're here for.' She smiled.
'Among other things.'

Tallis and Craddock followed Sir Darius and Lady
Rose. Aubrey and George were left alone. 'Shall we go?'
Aubrey said.

'You go, old man. I'm waiting for someone. Ah, here
she is.'

A pretty, diminutive young woman hurried up the
stairs. Her golden curls peeped out from under a small,
excessively stylish bonnet. She smiled widely when she
saw George.

'Sophie!' he cried and dashed across the entrance hall.
He took both her hands. 'Aubrey, do you remember
Sophie Delroy from Lutetia?'

'Of course I do. Hello, Sophie.'

'Hello, Aubrey. What progress has your father made
with women's suffrage in your country?' She took a
notebook and pencil out of her bag and waited for his
answer.

'Not now, Sophie,' George said. 'You're here to report
on Ophelia Hepworth's exhibition first. Politics after.'

'Politics always come first, George,' she said. Her accent
made his name sound like Zhorzhe. Aubrey had an
inkling that George enjoyed it.

George offered Sophie his arm. 'To the paintings?'

She frowned. 'Haven't you forgotten something?'

George reached into his jacket and took out a notebook
of his own. 'Ready.'

This time, Aubrey was left alone. He was happy
George had such a kindred spirit to enjoy the exhibition
with. They were a fine couple and he wished them
happiness.

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts. 'I saw
Craddock and Tallis in the exhibition. What on earth are
they doing here?'

Caroline was wearing something vaguely oriental,
high-waisted, in a combination of shimmering silver and
crimson. She had a small hat with a feather in it.

Aubrey swallowed, tried to hide it, nearly choked.

Caroline sighed. 'If you're going to keep reacting like
that, I'm going to stop dressing up.'

Red-faced, Aubrey waved a hand frantically. 'No, no,
don't do that. Last thing I want. Something just got
caught in my throat. A fly. Beetle. Something.'

She crossed her arms. 'So tell me about Craddock
and Tallis.'

When he'd finished, Caroline glanced toward the exhibition
area. 'They don't suspect that you gave the Rashid
Stone to Professor Mansfield?'

'I think Craddock might. But he didn't press the point.
The Sultan may have more friends than he realises.'

'It's a pity that Mr Ravi didn't have a chance to investigate
the stone. From what you've told me, his insights
could have been vital.'

Aubrey – and the entire university – had been
shocked at the news of Lanka Ravi's death. The brilliant
theoretician had abruptly sailed for home, but died on
the voyage, of an unspecified disease. It was a loss that
would be felt for years, but many were already clamouring
to be allowed access to the numerous notebooks
Ravi had left behind. Rumours were abounding about
the contents of the notebooks – brilliant, difficult insights
that would need much close attention. Aubrey hoped
that he'd be allowed to see them some day.

'And with all that's happened, where does that leave
us?' Caroline said and Aubrey was nearly lost in the
heady import of her words.

Where indeed?
A thousand scenarios played out in his
mind.

'Sorry,' he said when he realised Caroline was staring
at him. 'It's getting a touch stuffy in here.'

'I agree. You need some fresh air.'

'I haven't seen the exhibition.'

'I've seen it. I'll tell you about it while we walk.'

'We? Walk? We?'

'If you're just going to mumble nonsense rhymes, I'm
going alone.'

T
HEY WALKED IN SILENCE FOR SOME TIME, TOWARD
Whitsun College. They crossed the lawn of the courtyard,
out the Bannister Gate and along the well-populated
river bank. In the early evening, the luncheon picnics
that had become afternoon teas were well on their way
to becoming supper, with groups of languid students
enjoying the last vestiges of the day.

Aubrey, as always, sought for things to say that wouldn't
make him sound stupid, or crass, or anything else she
wouldn't like. After some internal struggle, he decided on
a novel approach: he chose to remain silent.

They passed tennis courts. The sound of tennis balls on
racquets reminded Aubrey of a chain of bubbles bursting,
very slowly.

Eventually, it was Caroline who broke the silence, as
they rounded the last of the courts and headed towards
the town. 'Are you unwell?'

Aubrey considered this. 'You mean, apart from my
condition?'

'I'll get to that. It's just that you're unusually quiet.'

'Ah. I was being mysterious.'

'Is that what it was? I thought you might have
indigestion.'

So much for mysterious
, he thought. 'You're back into
your studies?'

A tennis ball came sailing over the fence. Caroline
caught it in one hand and lobbed it back. 'Of course.
I have some catching up to do.'

'It gets like that, sometimes.'

'What does?'

'This adventuring business. Exciting stuff, but eventually
day-to-day life has to be taken care of. It's lucky
you're a quick study.'

'Yes.' She wrinkled her brow. 'You've managed it,
adventuring then catching up?'

'Not without some late nights and close squeaks.

Sometimes the adventure is the easy part, and catching
up the hard part.'

They wandered by the Botanic Garden, where
cactuses and succulents seemed to be making a determined
bid to take over the perennials bed.

'Speaking of your condition,' Caroline said. 'How is it?'