The double wooden doors of the main entrance to the stately Banford were locked. Both side doors were locked. The rear door was locked. None of the windows was open.
Frustrated, Aubrey stood before the front doors again. 'Dr Tremaine is under here. That's where the magic is.'
'How do you know?' Caroline asked.
'The magical traces lead right through every entrance. And they're fresh, a few hours at most.' Aubrey put his hand on the smooth wood of the doors. He grasped the brass handle. 'The doors have been enchanted, too. I can feel it.'
'So we need magic to get inside,' George said. 'Do you know any good unlocking spells?'
'Tremaine wouldn't want to use a spell every time he went in and out. Too tedious.'
What would he use? Aubrey asked himself. He'd want something efficient, elegant, automatic . . .
He'd want the doors to recognise him.
Aubrey knew that good preparation was the key to successful spell-casting. But in this case, he thought, I'll have to make it up as I go along. Again.
He hummed a little and slapped his pockets, eyebrows raising when he felt a hard, round shape in his inner jacket pocket. He reached into it and pulled out Dr Tremaine's pearl. He stared at it. 'Remember the illusion spell I cast back in Professor Hepworth's workshop?' he said softly.
'The Law of Something or Other, no doubt,' George whispered hoarsely. 'Whatever it is, old man, I'd get on with it if I were you.'
Aubrey moved to one side of the door and cleared his mind, readying himself. He took a deep breath and began.
Having cast it so recently, the spell came to Aubrey easily. He used the pearl as a focus, as it had been so close to the Sorcerer Royal for so long. Each syllable he chanted set the parameters of the illusion, while the specific sequence of terms circumscribed the effects, limiting them to Dr Tremaine's physical appearance. He shuddered at the thought of taking on any of Dr Tremaine's personality. That wouldn't do at all.
He had time to adjust the spell a little, to make it even more convincing. Aubrey's inversion of two syllables at the end of the spell, and the elimination of the falling terminal utterance, added what he thought was some flavour of Dr Tremaine's being. He hoped it might help deceive the guardian spells waiting for them.
He let out a deep breath and turned to his friends. Caroline stared and hissed, her hands curling into fists.
'Well done, old man,' George said in a strained voice. 'Dr Tremaine has a twin.'
Aubrey didn't feel any different, but when he looked at his hands they weren't his own. They were long, powerful and bore several wicked scars. 'Let's hope the door thinks so.'
'That's better,' Caroline said. She stood more easily. 'You can't possibly be Dr Tremaine with that voice.'
'Good,' Aubrey said, but he felt vaguely insulted. 'Stand behind me.'
Aubrey spread his arms wide and presented himself to the entrance. He grinned when the door opened with no hesitation. 'Quickly, let's find the stairs down to the bunker.'
It was easier than he expected. Behind the grand staircase which led to the upper floors was a narrower flight of stairs leading down. Soft buttery lights began to glow as they descended, triggered by their presence. At the bottom of the stairs was an iron door and it, too, opened as they approached. A short corridor led to another iron door which swung back as they neared.
Inside was a drawing room. Aubrey blinked. Except for its having no windows, the room would not have been out of place in Penhurst or Maidstone. The carpet was richly patterned Olchester, the furniture was solid, darkly polished wood and leather. Glass-fronted bookshelves were crammed with expensive-looking volumes. A harp stood in one corner. The paintings were landscapes full of riders, peasants and haywains.
Across the room, sitting motionless on one of the large, wing-backed chairs was Sir Darius. Next to the chair stood a tall, dark figure in an extravagant fur coat.
'Father,' Aubrey breathed. 'Dr Tremaine.'
'Ah, good to see you all here!' the Sorcerer Royal said, beaming. 'I was just explaining to Sir Darius how I'd change the lbw law if it were up to me, but that can wait. Take a seat. And cancel that illusion, young Fitzwilliam. Devilishly handsome though I am, it's a mite disconcerting seeing myself across the room.'
A three-syllable utterance was all it took to cancel the illusion. Aubrey stared at his father. 'What have you done to him?'
Sir Darius was sitting stiff-backed, both feet on the floor, arms on the armrests of the chair. His face was impassive, drained of life. The only part of him that moved was his eyes, which met Aubrey's gaze.
Dr Tremaine chuckled. 'A simple spell. An inverse application of the Law of Animation, as I expect you've already guessed. Much safer than tying him up.'
'Let him go.'
'After taking so much trouble to bring him here? That wouldn't make much sense, would it?' Dr Tremaine clapped his hands together. 'And now you're here. Which is a capital thing, as I have a feeling that it may be useful to keep a close eye on you, young Fitzwilliam.'
Aubrey sensed Caroline slipping to his right, putting a table between the Sorcerer Royal and herself. George stood to Aubrey's left, fists clenched, glowering.
'You killed my father, didn't you?' Caroline said.
Dr Tremaine turned and studied her for a moment. 'Ah, Miss Hepworth. I haven't seen you since you were a baby.'
'You killed him,' Caroline repeated, her voice steady.
'I'm sorry,' Dr Tremaine replied, lowering his large, dark eyes. 'I loved Lionel. A great friend. A great man. A great mind. I'm glad I have his notebook to remember him by.'
His face had gone from joviality to sorrow to compassion in an instant. Aubrey blinked. It was as if Dr Tremaine had run through a series of masks, trying each one until he found one that fitted the occasion.
'But why did you kill him?' Aubrey asked, as he digested the fact that the professor's notebook was in the possession of Dr Tremaine.
Dr Tremaine shrugged. 'The magic that drove the Black Beast needed a final test. It happened to be Lionel. Rather bad luck on his part, really. It could have been anyone.'
It was the offhand nature of this declaration that chilled Aubrey. Someone whom Tremaine called a friend was killed just because he happened to be in the wrong place?
'You really are trying for the Ritual of the Way, aren't you?' he asked.
Dr Tremaine rolled his eyes. 'I'm sorry that it's so obvious.'
'You're planning a war,' George said through clenched teeth.
'Just helping it along a little. To tell the truth, I think the idiots in charge are doing a good job by themselves, but I'm not one to leave things to chance.' He stroked his chin and chuckled. 'My role over the last few months has been like an invisible stage manager, really. Rewarding, if a little frustrating.'
'You were at the Society for Non-magical Fitness,' Aubrey said flatly.
'I made sure my Army of New Albion tools were able to escape from that mess. Von Stralick nearly managed to ruin everything right then by luring them there.'