Word of Honour (27 page)

'Settling international debt, in particular. Traditionally,
Albion has waited until after the King's blessing before
shipping gold off to any nation we owe money to.'

Suddenly, Aubrey realised, a potentially enormous
problem had just become even larger.

'I see why you're upset,' George said. 'It'd be a nice way
to offend any potential allies, wouldn't it? Offering stacks
of gold to settle a debt only to find out some time later
that it melted away.'

Aubrey knew that every nation on the globe was
scrambling to cement friendships in this precarious
world. With every indication that a war was imminent,
allies were vital. If Albion was seen as untrustworthy or –
even worse – duplicitous, it could find itself alone in a
hostile international landscape.

He raked back his hair with both hands. 'Well, it looks
as if we've managed to prevent this, at any rate. Should
we go upstairs and raise the alarm?'

Caroline gave him a look of approval and he vowed to
do his best to earn more of them.

He was about to offer her his arm when George
cleared his throat. 'Sorry to be a wet blanket, but I've just
been thinking about these magic suppressor thingies.'

'Thingies?' Deep inside, a misgiving or two woke, as if
they'd heard their name being called.

'Well, they must have been working when they were
first installed. You saw the units in the main banking
chamber in action, didn't you?'

'They worked perfectly.' Aubrey winced. His misgivings
were now rampaging around inside his stomach.
'And the governors would have insisted on testing these
units, especially after the failed break-in.' He bounced
over to the nearest suppressor, frowning, and ran his
fingers over it, peering at its flat black surface. 'So if
anyone was going to do anything magical in here – such
as replacing the Old Man of Albion and creating a
mountain of fairy gold – these suppressors must be able
to be shut off at a distance. Radio, perhaps?'

A voice came from the corner of the vault nearest the
Old Man of Albion. 'Interesting idea, but no. I used
magic. A neat little application of the Law of Opposites,
actually.'

It was as if the space between Aubrey's Adam's apple
and navel had been replaced by a block of ice. Slowly, he
turned, while George let out an oath.

Dr Tremaine stepped forward, brushing dust from his
shoulders.

'
T
REMAINE
,' A
UBREY GROWLED
. H
E'D GROWN TOO
accustomed to the renegade's mercurial behaviour
to be surprised at his appearance, but his casual
demeanour made Aubrey extremely wary.

Dr Tremaine shook his head, as if Aubrey was a slow
student. 'I was afraid you'd missed the implications of
my little plan entirely. Luckily, you have Miss Hepworth
to help you.'

He bowed in Caroline's direction. She gazed at him
steadily with such venom that Aubrey was surprised the
ex-Sorcerer Royal didn't drop dead on the spot.

'And your remarkably unimaginative friend even
managed to play a part.'

'Who?' George said. 'Me? I'm offended by that,
Tremaine.'

Tremaine bowed again. 'I aim not to disappoint.' He
glanced at a watch on his wrist. 'Now, Fitzwilliam, I must
say that your timing is abominable, as usual. Interrupting
my important work like this? Most regrettable.'

The ex-Sorcerer Royal behaved as if he belonged in
the vault of the Bank of Albion. Tall, broad-shouldered,
with long black hair, he leaned against the wall and
yawned. He wore a midnight blue frock coat, cutaway,
and he held a cane. 'And just in case you were wondering
why you couldn't see me as I stood here, listening
to your ponderous deductions, I played around with
Dimensionality, just like the batteries in the
Electra.'

'That
was
you, then.'

'Sinking it was a daft idea, I tried telling the Holmlanders
that. A waste of fine engineering. Nevertheless,
heads of intelligence services will insist on having ideas
of their own, won't they?' He held up his cane.

'Recognise this, Fitzwilliam? It should have a pearl on
top, and I've a mind to reclaim it.'

'That can wait,' Aubrey said. His palms prickled with
sweat.

'That's your problem, Fitzwilliam. You get your priorities
mixed up. You put the public ahead of the personal.'

'I do? I mean, isn't that the way it should be?'

Dr Tremaine laughed. 'You couldn't be more wrong,
my boy. The personal always comes first. Always, always,
always. It's the only way to achieve anything.'

'Well, you're not achieving your goals with this little
scheme, are you? We've messed it up for you, well and
truly.'

Dr Tremaine clapped his hands together. 'That, of
course, depends.'

'Depends? On what?'

'On your getting out of here alive.'

It was the combination that took Dr Tremaine by
surprise. George roared and charged from his left,
swinging the pry bar. At the same instant, while his attention
was taken by the whistling length of steel, Caroline
slipped up from behind.

But even then, Aubrey had bad feelings about this
multiple attack. Tremaine was as far away from the traditional
notion of a namby-pamby magician as one could
get. He'd boxed several noted prize-fighters to standstill,
both gloved and bare-knuckle. He was also a fine
wrestler.

And he's the most powerful magician in the world
.

Tremaine moved towards George's wild charge. He
side-stepped just enough for the pry bar to hiss past his
nose. This put George off balance and Dr Tremaine
reached out, grabbed his arm and wrenched. George
cartwheeled away and crashed into the wall.

With balletic ease, the ex-Sorcerer Royal pivoted in
time to meet Caroline's challenge. He grinned like
a crocodile. 'Ah, Miss Hepworth! I see you've been
instructed by Master Wu. Very fine indeed!'

Caroline didn't answer. She turned side on and
advanced.

Aubrey normally would have been fascinated to
watch Caroline move so gracefully, but his thoughts
were elsewhere.

He desperately needed to activate the magic
suppressors.

Dr Tremaine was playing with George and Caroline.
He didn't need to meet any physical challenges – he'd
have a hundred spells he could use to disable them. But
if Aubrey could make the magic suppressors work again,
the odds could be evened – especially if Tremaine was
unaware of this change of events.

Dr Tremaine said he'd used the Law of Opposites.
Could it be as simple as thinking of the magic suppressors
as having two possible states – active and inactive?
With the correct spell, a magician could change the state
of an object, flip-flopping from active to inactive, from
hot to cold, from light to dark. The effect was simple,
the spell fiendishly complex. Completely reversing a
state, in its most fundamental aspects? Lanka Ravi's
work suggested why this was difficult. Most magicians
wouldn't even try.

But it was just the sort of thing Dr Tremaine would
attempt – and succeed at. It was uncommon, difficult, and
needed sheer brilliance to achieve.

And
, Aubrey thought,
it's a red herring
.

Where Mordecai Tremaine was concerned, Aubrey
had learned that jumping to conclusions was a deadly
pastime. When an answer fitted perfectly, it had to be
wrong. He had to find the solution behind the solution.

A spell couldn't work in the field of magic suppression
cast by the devices, not even a clever spell using the Law
of Opposites. Tremaine was lying, Aubrey should have
known that.

But what did that leave?
Aubrey sprinted for the nearest suppressor. He tore it
open and scanned the contents feverishly.

Nothing.

He straightened to see the improbable sight of Dr
Tremaine flying through the air, his coat flapping like a
vast pair of wings. He lost his grip on his cane and it clattered
onto the nearest stack of fairy gold. He landed like
a sack of wheat thrown from a first-storey window,
grunted, but rolled to his feet immediately. 'A fine throw,
young lady,' he cried. He slapped at his coat, dusting
himself off. 'But even Master Wu has his limitations, as
you're about to find out.'

Aubrey's impulse was to help Caroline. But while she
looked pale and strained Aubrey knew what a formidable
fighter she was – he'd only get in the way. He raced
for the next magic suppressor, knowing that all Tremaine
had to do was disable one and the suppressors would be
unable to generate a field.

Aubrey cursed. Its workings were exactly the same.

Except . . .

With a knuckle, he banged on the block of black
ceramic in the middle of the box. It made a hollow noise,
as if it were a mere eggshell. Gritting his teeth, he made
a fist. He punched the ceramic and it shattered.

Inside was the workings of a clock.

Aubrey actually turned away and then looked back,
unwilling to believe his eyes. The second time, he
realised that while the gears and springs may have been
clockwork, it had never driven a pair of hands to tell
the time. It was a machine set to disable the magic
suppressor.

A small pair of spring-loaded, very sharp blades had
been arranged either side of a wire which ran between
the top compartment and the bottom. The clockwork
mechanism was attached to these blades. When it
unwound, it released the tension on the blades and
they snapped shut, severing the wire. A crucial wire,
Aubrey had no doubt.

It was simple, it was ingenious, it was nearly foolproof.

But all it needed was for the wire to be reconnected
for the suppressor to work again.

Feverishly, Aubrey tore away the clockwork mechanism
and flung it to the ground. He dragged his new
watch out of his pocket and yanked. The chain tore away
the button and it dangled, loose. The Brayshire Ruby
winked at him.

He spared an instant to regret his actions, then he went
ahead. He tugged, the chain parted. He slipped the watch
into his pocket and caught the chain before it fell.

With quick, precise movements, he bent the remains of
the wires and linked them with the gold chain.

Heart pounding, he swivelled in time to see Dr
Tremaine block a lightning-fast blow from Caroline.

He was grinning, fiercely. 'Good!' he shouted. 'But this
is better!'

He twisted, moving both forearms against each other,
catching Caroline's fist in mid-strike. She was flung aside
as if she was a doll. The wall was too close. Before she had
time to cry out, she crashed into it.

Dr Tremaine turned, panting, and faced Aubrey. 'Ah,
the child wonder! You're still here?'

'Where else would I be?' George was slumped on
the floor near Tremaine. Aubrey was relieved to see
that he was still breathing, even though his eyes were
closed.

Where was that pry bar?

'And that's the pity of it.' Dr Tremaine's dark eyes glittered.
'You should leave well enough alone, Fitzwilliam.
Stay out of things that don't concern you. Adopt a
quiet, contemplative life. It's the only way to ensure your
integrity, shall we say?'

Aubrey blinked. While Dr Tremaine had been talking,
he'd made his way halfway across the vault, weaving
in and out of the stacks of gold. Aubrey hadn't even
noticed.

'If you're talking about my condition, I've made some
significant improvements there. It's no longer an issue.'

'I'm sure you've done what you can. But death magic
is a perilous area to work in for the uninitiated. And
leaving yourself unprotected, as you did, is a difficult
mistake to remedy. Adopting the life of a recluse is best
for you, you know that. No strain, no excitement. You
should be able to live out a relatively normal span, if a
boring one.'

Aubrey was strangely heartened by Dr Tremaine's
advice. It showed that despite his powers, he didn't
know everything.
If he thinks I'd be happy mouldering
away, living as a hermit, he's insane
. 'Excellent advice,' he
said to Dr Tremaine, who had sidled his way to within a
few yards. 'After I make sure you're safely imprisoned,
I'll think about it.'

Dr Tremaine shook his head. 'You disappoint me, like
everyone else.' He sighed and let his hands drop to his
sides. 'Despite that, I will try to make this as painless as
possible. Which is an interesting point in itself, as no-one
has ever come back to report on the pain levels of this
particular method of demise.'

Aubrey backed against a stack of gold. Dr Tremaine
barked a spell – a long, convoluted series of expressions
that Aubrey recognised as Akkadian. It ended with a
flourish – not a cryptic one, but a defiantly Tremaine-esque
finial that stamped the ego of the originator on
the spell.

Nothing happened.

Aubrey took great delight in the expression on the
magician's face. Disbelief, astonishment and fury warred
for possession, with the result that the great ex-Sorcerer
Royal stood looking as if he'd been struck between
the eyes with a cricket ball. He actually rocked on his
feet, then his eyes narrowed and he snarled. 'The magic
suppressors.'

Aubrey shrugged and scrabbled behind his back. 'Good
machinery. It was a shame to see them sitting idle.'

'So I am left to my own resources.' Dr Tremaine flexed
his shoulders and strode towards Aubrey. 'I don't imagine
this is going to be much of a problem. More painful for
you, I'm afraid, but you've brought it upon yourself.'

Heart pounding, Aubrey lifted the gold bar he'd separated
from the stack behind him. Crying out with the
effort, he heaved it at the charging figure of Dr Tremaine.

With a sickening crack, it took him flush on the chest.
Dr Tremaine grunted and fell sideways. He sprawled
across the nearest stack of gold where he clung, one-handed. '
That, Fitzwilliam,' he gasped, 'was uncalled for.'

'Uncalled for?' Aubrey picked up another gold bar.
'You were going to kill me!'
'For the greater good.' Dr Tremaine groaned. 'For the
greater good.' He closed his eyes and rested his head on
the bullion.

'For the greater good? Whose greater good?'

Dr Tremaine opened eyes that were full of contempt.
'Mine, of course, you idiot.'

He struggled upright, using the stack of bullion for
support. His right arm was held tightly against his side,
but now he had a revolver in his left.

Aubrey couldn't help it. Part of his brain noted that
it was a Symons service revolver, the Mark V model,
not the more common Mark IV, and that it had been
well used. It was large: a . 450 calibre. It was more than
enough to punch a hole right through him from this
distance.

'I always have backup.' Tremaine's voice was hoarse and
he had blood at the corner of his mouth. He winced as
he breathed. Aubrey hoped he'd cracked a rib. 'Noisy,
messy, but it should do the trick.'

Tremaine coughed and grimaced. As a distraction,
Aubrey decided it was as good as it was going to get.
He flung himself sideways behind the nearest stack of
bullion. The revolver roared. The air was instantly full
of cordite smoke and the enclosed space of the vault
echoed with disapproval.

Aubrey crawled as fast as he could through the aisles
made by the stacks of bullion, his back itching as he
imagined Dr Tremaine rounding the corner. He went
left, then right, then the revolver fired again, but it was
followed by bellowing and a string of quick, heartfelt
curses.

Aubrey risked a quick head bob. Dr Tremaine was
standing in the middle of the stacks of gold. He
was trying to complete the difficult task of clamping
one arm to his side while using it to cradle his other
wrist. The revolver was nowhere to be seen, but the
handy pry bar was. Spinning on top of the bullion, it
was the object of Dr Tremaine's wrath.

'Call it an unimaginative throw, Tremaine,' George
cried. 'I think it worked well enough.' Then he hefted a
bar of gold and heaved it at the wounded magician.

Dr Tremaine ducked and let out an almost animal
growl. He glanced at George, then at Aubrey, then at
the gold. He glowered, bared his teeth, then, with an
enormous effort, he used his damaged hand to extract a
glass globe from the inner pocket of his coat. It was the
size of an orange, but something green inside it swirled
ominously.