Blaze of Glory

Sir Darius put an elbow on the table and rested his chin on a fist. 'War?'

'It may not be inevitable, but it is more than likely. This is why we should be preparing.' Aubrey stared at the strawberry on his spoon for a moment then looked at his father. 'Isn't that what you said in your letter to The Argus?'

'And faced a good deal of heat in the party room for it. Some of us aren't sure what we think about Holmland.'

'Surely they can see what's happening on the continent?'

'Some of them don't even see the trouble that rabble-rousers like the Army of New Albion and the Reformists are stirring up. I'm not saying that they don't have some genuine grievances about the state of the country, but their methods . . .' He made a face and picked up his spoon. 'Good strawberries?'

'I won't know until I taste them,' Aubrey said.

Duchess Maria made a noise of disgust. She dabbed at her mouth and rose from the table. 'If you'll excuse me.'

After she had gone, Sir Darius shook his head. 'That woman can gently close a door louder than a thousand cannon.'

'She's anxious, Darius,' Lady Fitzwilliam said. 'She's seen so much before.'

'Upper House politics?' Sir Darius snorted. 'Any place where entry is based on your owning a title becomes party games for the rich and idle. The Lower House is where government happens, where decisions are made. The Upper House members just glance at the bills and approve them, those who are awake. I don't know how Father put up with the Upper House.' Sir Darius looked at his son. 'And what do you think, Aubrey? What's the best way to win this election?'

This was a typical Sir Darius challenge. Aubrey knew that he expected a reasoned answer. Wit was acceptable, but it had to have a backbone of rigour. 'Well, sir,' he began, 'it's a short campaign, and I'm not sure the party is totally united.'

'True, true. Much to my chagrin.'

Aubrey chose his words carefully. 'And the situation with Holmland makes things awkward, wouldn't you say?'

Sir Darius sat back. 'Holmland is arming itself and growing stronger every day. I don't trust it, even though its Elektor is our King's cousin. I see ambition overriding any family loyalty. Strength, not words, is what the Holmlanders understand.'

'Darius,' Lady Fitzwilliam said, 'you're making speeches again.'

He grinned and suddenly looked years younger. 'I need the practice.'

Later, as Aubrey and George walked back to school, George said, 'Your father knows how to inspire people. If he led, I'd follow him.'

Aubrey didn't say anything for some time. Eventually, as they neared the school gates, he turned to George. 'His men always said that,' he said softly. 'Even the ones he later led to their deaths.'

Five

THE NEXT DAY WAS SUNDAY. AUBREY FELT THAT GOING to chapel might be good for his soul, or for his conscience, or both. He roused George, who would have preferred to sleep in.

After the service, Aubrey shook hands with the minister on the stairs in front of the chapel. The minister fell into the short, round category of clergymen. Aubrey liked him because he was a practical, down-to-earth sort, whose sermons were short but had lingering effects. Aubrey often found himself thinking about them days after they were given.

'Thanks, Reverend,' he said. 'You put it all very clearly. To the church, magic is neither good nor evil – it's the user who turns it to good or evil ends. So it's a matter of free will again, correct?'

The minister chuckled. 'Free will. That's what it's all about, young Fitzwilliam. The church has come a long way since the dark ages.'

The sun was warm and golden. Aubrey stood with his cap in hand enjoying the moment as the masters and the other boys swarmed down the stairs and out into the day that stretched before them. The scent of the roses and lavender planted around the chapel came strongly to him and mingled with the smell of cut grass on the playing fields. One of the groundsmen was slowly working his way around the oval, marking the boundary with lime. High in the blue sky, an ornithopter flapped its way across the heavens, taking important people from one important place to another.

Aubrey enjoyed Stonelea and its challenges, but the world was out there and, with his usual impatience, he wanted to tackle it. Finish this year – but then which of his ambitions was he to tackle first?

'A beautiful day,' George said.

Aubrey wrestled briefly with his impishness and lost. Making sure George was watching, he glanced at the cloudless blue sky. 'Thank you,' he said and strolled off, leaving George gaping.

Aubrey had difficulty keeping the smile from his face as he ambled along the path towards the boarding house.

George caught up. 'You're not fiddling with weather magic again, are you? Remember what happened last time?'

Aubrey relented. He grinned. 'No-one's called you Gullible George for a while, have they?'

George thrust his hands in his pockets, after a quick glance to see if any masters were watching. 'Dash it, Aubrey. There's no need for that sort of thing. I was simply concerned for you.'

'Sorry, George. I don't know what got into me.' Aubrey paused. 'Going to this morning's lecture?'

George looked longingly at the cricket oval. Half a dozen fourth-formers were doing some catching practice. 'I have to. The headmaster put me on the list for luncheon with our guest.'

'You? With all of sixth form to choose from?'

'Yes.' George put his hands in his pockets. 'Who's our guest lecturer this time?'

'It's Dr Mordecai Tremaine. I'm looking forward to it.'

'The Sorcerer Royal? Of course you are, magic and all that.'

'Naturally. I hope I'll get the chance to ask Dr Tremaine a few questions.'

CLOUGH HALL WAS ALMOST FULL WHEN AUBREY AND George arrived. The Sorcerer Royal's notoriety had attracted a larger attendance than usual.

Ever since Aubrey had begun seriously studying magic, he'd admired Dr Tremaine. His copy of the definitive reference work – Tremaine on Magic – was battered and dog-eared through repeated readings.

Dr Tremaine had risen from obscure beginnings to become a public figure after being appointed to the post of Sorcerer Royal by the King. His shadowy past had given rise to many stories. He often featured in the popular newspapers, which were attracted by his feats. What was known was that he'd fought in duels, both magical and physical, over matters of honour. His output of poetry was small, but highly praised. He was a champion fencer and rider. His singing voice was legendary, and he was constantly sought for roles on the stage, all of which he declined. It was rumoured he'd fought in foreign wars, always on the side of the insurgents, and that he swam four miles across the Sardanis Strait to rendezvous with one of his many lovers.

Aubrey had also heard that Dr Tremaine had once been offered the throne of Baltravia but did not accept, much to the disappointment of all Baltravians, saying that the climate disagreed with him.