Выбрать главу

'Playing his own game, I suspect,' Aubrey said. 'It seems as if he has moved the Magisterium, the Special Services, the Army of New Albion and your people, von Stralick, much as pieces on a chessboard.' He looked at the Holmland spy. 'But what was he doing at the burnt church?'

Von Stralick shrugged. 'I'd say I was his target. I was going to eliminate the Army of New Albion.'

'What?' George burst out. 'Why would you do a thing like that?'

'Because they're planning to kill the King,' Aubrey said slowly. He looked closely at von Stralick. 'That would mean Prince Albert would assume the throne, and he has a much stronger view about resisting Holmland aggression on the continent than his father. Isn't that correct?'

Von Stralick smiled. 'Our Elektor corresponds regularly with your King about gardening. They are good friends.'

'But Holmland wants war,' George said. 'Your generals are always talking about it.'

'No, Holmland doesn't want war at all,' von Stralick said. 'Not right now.'

Caroline narrowed her eyes. 'Later, then. At a time of your choosing.'

Aubrey pushed on with his chain of thought. 'Tremaine wanted to stop you. For some reason, he didn't want the Army of New Albion to fail. If they did, the plot to kill the King would be no more. Albion and Holmland would be friends.' He scowled. 'Tremaine wants to bring us to the brink of war.'

'Holmland would be blamed if your King was killed,' von Stralick said. 'It wouldn't matter who was responsible. We are always blamed.'

Aubrey put his hands together and squeezed, hard. 'My father is missing, Hugo.'

Von Stralick looked surprised for an instant, before he gathered himself. 'Sir Darius? I didn't know.' He scowled. 'I don't like not knowing such things. I'm sorry, Fitzwilliam.'

'I'm sure you are,' Caroline said.

'You must believe me,' von Stralick continued. 'We would never move against Sir Darius. Not only would we be the natural suspects –'

'Which you are,' George pointed out.

'But it would harden the Albion people against us, which we do not want at the moment. Sir Darius is a very popular man.'

'I'm inclined to believe you. Which means Dr Tremaine must have my father,' Aubrey said. 'Tremaine wants war. Somehow, abducting my father is going to help advance his plot. It makes sense. From what we know of Tremaine, he likes to have more than one iron in the fire.'

'But why?' von Stralick said.

Why indeed? Aubrey thought. It came to him then, perfectly, the last piece in the puzzle. Without all his research into his own condition, Aubrey would never have seen it. Tremaine, Banford Park, magic, the Black Beast . . . Looking for a solution to his own condition, of teetering on the edge of true death, Aubrey had come across references – oblique and guarded – to a vast, inconceivable horror, something that could be satisfied under certain conditions. It was a way to power beyond belief, but it was at a cost that would be inhuman to contemplate. It was one reason why death magic was a forbidden area.

'War,' he repeated. 'Tremaine wants a war.'

'But how does he stand to benefit from conflict like that?' George asked. 'Is he working for Holmland?'

Jack jumped in. 'Or is it money? Does Tremaine own armaments factories? Is he going to get rich from the blood of the workers?'

They all looked to Aubrey for an answer. 'No,' he said eventually, 'Tremaine's game is more subtle and more terrifying than that.' He took a deep breath, then let it out. 'War as sacrifice. With Holmland and Albion at war, the whole Continent will be drawn into it.' Aubrey went on, hoping that speaking his thoughts aloud would expose holes in his reasoning, but knowing it was the only answer that made sense. 'Millions will die. With modern weapons, the Continent will be a slaughterhouse. If Tremaine can harness this blood sacrifice in the correct way, he will have enough death, enough souls, to conduct the Ritual of the Way.'

'Immortality,' von Stralick breathed.

Aubrey looked sharply at him. 'How do you know about the Ritual of the Way? Are you a magician as well as a spy?'

'No magician, just a good reader. I study history. I know that the Ritual of the Way is a theoretical method of gaining immortality, but no-one has ever worked out how to arrange enough deaths.'

'The ritual is meant to grant immortality and power,' Aubrey said. 'Enough for an eternal reign.'

Von Stralick appeared to come to a decision. 'Fitzwilliam, look to Banford Park. Tremaine was head of that facility and we have reliable intelligence to suggest that it is not totally shut down, as was announced.' He pounded the wall with his good hand. 'Tremaine must be stopped!'

Aubrey agreed. An immortal ruler who was prepared to sacrifice millions for his own good? One who thought he was beyond petty considerations such as human life? He shuddered. A nightmare was unfolding in front of them.

At that moment, many things happened in quick succession. One of Jack's cats went out through a hole in the wall, then hissed and hurried back, confronted by the rain. The sodden animal wore an expression of utter distaste. Just as it reappeared, Oscar shifted his weight, easing his massive feet off the ground for relief then placing them back down again. Unfortunately, his left foot settled on the cat's tail.

The cat gave an ear-splitting screech and Aubrey thought, at first, that someone had launched a demon into the hovel. Oscar was startled and tottered backwards. He put out a hand to steady himself, but the flimsy wall offered no support. With the crunch of breaking timber, he toppled right through the wall and into the only other room of the tiny dwelling. He lay there, blinking.

Jack sprang to Oscar's side, then was torn between helping his friend and his spitting, hissing cat. When he saw the cat was sitting in a corner washing its tail, he left it alone. 'Oscar, are you hurt?'

Oscar sat up, smiling and wiping dust from his chest with both plate-sized hands. 'Righto, Jack. Righto.'

Aubrey smiled, but Caroline seized his arm. 'Von Stralick, he's gone.'

Aubrey turned to see the open door. George peered up and down the street. 'No sign of him.'

'Right,' Aubrey said. 'No help from that quarter, then.'

'What's the best course of action, old man?' George asked.

'I still have to get my father back.'

'And how are we going to do that?' Caroline asked.

'By finding Tremaine. Von Stralick's suspicions about Banford Park make very good sense to me. Tremaine has had plenty of time to set up equipment there since it was shut down, readying it to act as a base for his plotting.' He hummed a little, then grinned. 'Can anyone fly an ornithopter?'

Twenty-Two

'YOU'RE SURE YOU KNOW HOW TO FLY AN ORNI-thopter?' Aubrey asked.

'Of course.' Caroline reached up and tested one of the wing struts. 'I learned years ago.'

'One of your father's friends taught you?' George guessed.

'My mother taught me,' Caroline said. She'd abandoned her beggar's rags, revealing that underneath she'd been wearing the loose black outfit she'd had on when confronting the Black Beast at Penhurst. Aubrey admired the cut of the garments as she opened the door into the cabin, mounted the three steps and disappeared inside.