Action at a Distance. Aubrey knew that a primary function of this law was to establish a linkage. Much as a marionette master pulls strings to make his puppets work, so Action at a Distance could set up a connection between the spell-caster and the subject. He blinked, frowned, then he saw it: an insubstantial filament snaking off through the solid wall of the hovel, only visible to someone with magical awareness. Aubrey reached out and uttered a simple severance spell. Without a sound, the filament parted and faded.
Von Stralick's chest heaved. With a tortured rasp, he sucked in a huge breath, then another, as his hands clutched the air. In a moment, he was sitting up, shaking his head.
Jack Figg fetched water in an earthenware mug. Von Stralick sipped it and nodded his thanks.
Shaken, Aubrey stood. He went and leaned against the desk. Someone wants to kill you, von Stralick.'
Von Stralick tried to smile, but it faded before it reached his lips. He touched his chest with his fingertips. 'Magic?'
'Indeed.Very unusual magic, too. Perpetrated by the unknown party at the burnt church.'
'I saw him,' von Stralick said, but I could not make him out. He set his ghouls on me.'
'He hasn't given up on you, it seems.'
Von Stralick looked troubled. 'I see. This changes matters, somewhat. I feel as if I am not in possession of all the facts.' He winced. 'May I resume my seat on the bench? It must be more comfortable than this floor.'
Jack and George helped the Holmlander to his feet and then eased him to his seat. Oscar shuffled to one side.
Von Stralick rubbed his neck with both hands. 'I feel that it is most important to identify this mysterious party. For all our sakes.'
Aubrey studied the Holmland spy. The man was wary, disconcerted, but he might have useful information. Aubrey told himself to step carefully here.
He thought of the grand structure of supposition and assumption he'd built up and realised he'd already begun shifting the pieces around in his mind. He thought back to the whorled timber trinket he'd added at the last moment to stabilise the structure he'd made back at Maidstone. It looks as if I needed that piece after all, he thought.
'Perhaps this mysterious foe has been manoeuvring this whole situation from behind the scenes, since the shooting party.' He frowned and tried to concentrate. 'He is powerful – strong enough to confound Craddock and the Magisterium, cunning enough to help the Army of New Albion escape from the Society for Non-magical Fitness. And the magic he used in the burnt church wasn't the work of an ordinary magician.'
'If it's the same person who stole my father's notebook, he'll have its assistance,' Caroline pointed out.
'Who do you think it is, Hugo?' Jack asked. 'Who is this mastermind?'
Von Stralick frowned. 'One of my first tasks when I am able to contact my superiors will be to see if they know. Someone in a position of influence? A member of the government? One of the great industrial leaders your country is so proud of? Whoever it is, their motives are not clear. It makes them all the more shadowy.'
George shook his head. 'I'm baffled.' He stood, stretched, then blinked. 'D'you have rats here, Jack?'
From somewhere near came a determined scratching.
'No,' Jack said, puzzled. 'The cats keep them away.'
'Ah, that'll be one at the door, then. Poor, wet moggy. I'll let it in.'
Jack shook his head. 'They're both inside, George. Revolutionary is under the desk and Comrade is by Oscar's feet.'
Caroline raised an eyebrow. 'Your cats' names are Revolutionary and Comrade?'
'Good, productive names, I would have thought. "Puss" and suchlike are the products of an outmoded system where domestic creatures are exploited.'
The scratching came again. Aubrey held up a hand, motioning for silence. Oscar stirred and craned his neck as George reached out for the latch. He jerked the door open. Lying on the doorstep was the mangled shape of one of Aubrey's clay mannikins. Rain tumbled on it. The mannikin lifted its head, sought for the door and found George's boot instead.
'Bring it here,' Aubrey said. 'It's come to report.'
George scooped it up. Caroline closed the door behind him and he took the mannikin to Aubrey. Aubrey held it in both hands and looked at the mess his handiwork had become. It was mostly a torso. Both legs were missing, and its arms were crossed and fused to its chest. Its clay surface looked as if it had been held over a fire, and one side of its faceless head had slumped and sagged. It twitched in his hands. 'We might have an answer here,' he said.
Von Stralick stared at the clay creature. 'What is this?'
'Aubrey's work,' Caroline said. Von Stralick sat back thoughtfully.
'Do you think it saw anything?' George asked.
'I don't know. It's too damaged to speak. It must have been caught in the magical cross-fire in the burnt church. I'm amazed it managed to drag itself all the way back here.'
At that moment, the mannikin shuddered. Aubrey went to still it, to return it to the clay from which it came, but the creature half-raised itself. As Aubrey watched, fascinated, the mannikin shook, swaying from side to side. Its poor, melted shape jerked and Aubrey had trouble holding it. Finally, with a supreme effort, it wrenched its fused arms apart. The exertion was too much for it, and the clay shape broke into two fragments.
Caroline gasped, while George and Jack let out oaths. Aubrey sat with the clay fragments in his lap. Between them was a small, silver-white object that the mannikin had been clasping.
'What is it?' Von Stralick asked, peering.
Aubrey picked it up and held it in his palm. It was cool, the size of the tip of his thumb. Roughly egg-shaped, it was gnarled in a way that was unmistakable. Aubrey recognised it immediately.
'It belongs to Dr Tremaine, the Sorcerer Royal. It was embedded in the top of his favourite cane.' As he said it, he remembered the blurred figure he had seen atop the pillar in the burnt church. He hadn't been wielding a wand or a stick, but holding his cane.
Aubrey sighed and wiped his face with a hand. He felt as if he'd been staring at a painting, trying to make sense of it, and then realised it had been hung upside down and had only needed righting. 'Dr Tremaine is our mysterious foe.'
'What?' Jack said. 'Impossible. He's dead.'
'I have to agree,' said von Stralick. 'He died in an accident at Banford Park.'
'It was Tremaine,' Aubrey repeated. It was like dropping a seed crystal into a supersaturated solution. Suddenly a lattice of consequences was forming and Aubrey found he could see much that had previously been unclear. Dr Tremaine's cane must have been lost in the magical battle in the burnt church. The mannikin had risked itself to bring back this evidence. 'This pearl is his. His death must have been a ruse.'
'But why?' Jack said. He took off his glasses and polished them. 'What is Tremaine doing mixed up in all this?'