Heart of Gold

The tower was leaning slightly, tilting so that Aubrey felt as if he were looking down on the buildings below. He could see the university grounds, Conscientiousness Street and the nearby bakeries where a grocer's delivery cart was overtaking a street sweeper who was battling with a backed-up drain. On the other side of that was a peculiar gap in a row of houses, as if a rotten tooth had been pulled. Aubrey was puzzled and tried to see more, but all he could make out was a dark hole in the ground.

The windows collected light and funnelled it into the depths of the tower through the central shaft of the staircase. The turret was also the observatory and watchtower so often found in these ancient magicians' strongholds. Overhead were the massive hinges that would allow the roof to open for unfettered access to the night sky.

George joined him, gulping as his feet skated on the iron walkway. He propped himself against a window frame. 'I say, old man, this isn't about to fall down, is it?'

'It's lasted hundreds of years, George. We'd be a mite unlucky if it decided to collapse right now.'

Aubrey hummed to himself, adjusting his position as the ancient tower creaked and groaned. He inched along, carefully, keeping on the balls of his feet.

George rubbed his chin. He glanced at Aubrey. 'Is this place moving?'

'Yes. Hold on . . .'

Aubrey's magical awareness had warned him, so when the tower lurched to one side he had a good grip on one of the wooden window frames. Secure, he flung out a hand and caught George's arm to prevent his friend from toppling into the stairwell.

'Thanks, old man.' George straightened his jacket. 'Is this what Maurice was talking about?'

Aubrey nodded. 'This place is questing. It's attuned to magic, and as a result it's nosing in the direction of the most powerful magic there is.'

'The Heart of Gold.' George's brow wrinkled. 'Why wasn't this place pointing at the Chapel of the Heart, then?'

'I'd say that the disturbance is responsible. Once the Heart of Gold was wrenched from the place it had been for centuries, the tower responded to it. The Heart of Gold is on the move, it seems, and the tower is tending toward it.' Aubrey pointed through the window in the direction the tower was leaning. 'We can use it, George, like a bloodhound.'

George stared out over the roofs, steeples and towers of Lutetia. 'If we trace a line that way, the Heart of Gold is out there?'

Aubrey was slow in answering as he worked through the implications. 'The Heart of Gold will be out there in that direction, but how far in that direction? If we follow that line out to the horizon, we're bound to find it, but that's hardly practical.'

George's face fell. 'That's a lot of Lutetia out there.'

'Unless we can repeat this from another location.' Aubrey stared out at the metropolis. 'Trace a line of yearning from here, then do it again from another place. The two lines will intersect and there will be the Heart of Gallia.'

'Dashed clever, Aubrey, but how are we going to get a second bearing? We can't exactly shift the tower a few miles to the right.'

'First of all, we need a map of the city. While you find one, I'll take care of the rest.'

'Find a map?'

'Use your initiative, George.'

George was blank for a moment, then held up a finger. 'I'll be back before you know it.'

After George went down the stairs, Aubrey shifted his attention to the tower.

He knelt and placed a hand on the brick wall underneath the nearest window. He closed his eyes and felt the magic that had soaked into it. It was a stew of countless spell fragments combining to give the tower its uncanny sensitivity.

Aubrey knew that, in the right circumstances, the Law of Constituent Parts could be extremely useful. Similar to the Law of Origins, the Law of Constituent Parts maintained that if something large was broken into small pieces, each piece would retain some of the properties of the whole it came from. All that was needed was the correct spell to enhance the particular, required property, and Aubrey was eager to do some spell-casting, now he felt strong again.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs made him turn. 'Maurice.'

The long-faced porter flapped a hand. 'What can I do for you, young sir?'

'I need a cold chisel and a mallet.'

Maurice gaped.

'I want to remove a brick. It's important,' he added, when Maurice's expression went from bewildered to aghast.

'It might be important, but you'll not ruin the tower.'

'I need a brick. The fate of Lutetia may depend on it.' And Gallia, and Albion, and Holmland, Aubrey thought, but he felt the drama of the statement would be lost if he extended too far.

'You can't take a brick from there. It's load bearing. You take one out and the window frame will drop. Then the window will collapse. And then –'

'Yes, yes, I can work out the rest.' Aubrey stood and drummed his thigh with a fist. 'I still need a brick.'

Maurice bobbed his head. It was a disconcerting movement, like a balloon caught in a chimney. 'A brick. From the tower.'

'Soon would be best.'

'I've got a spare door stopper in my room.'

'Won't do, I'm afraid.'

'A brick.' Maurice peered around as if he expected one to drop into his hands.

'This is quite urgent, Maurice.'

The old caretaker tapped his nose. 'Professor Castillon's rooms. He tried to put in a furnace and started knocking a hole in the wall he shared with Dr Cisco.'

'We can find a loose brick there?'

Maurice didn't answer. His expression was dreamy. 'Dr Cisco flew into a terrible rage, he did. Stormed into Professor Castillon's rooms and then it was a battle royal. Enough magic thrown around to light up the city.'

Aubrey was interested, despite himself. 'When was this?'

'Ooh, a hundred years ago, more or less. My pa told me about it.' Maurice shook himself. 'Those rooms were sealed up, not used after that. I'm sure I can get a brick for you though.'

'Will it be safe?'

Maurice chuckled. 'This place'd never hurt me. Not Maurice. Be back soon.'

Aubrey was left alone. He gazed over the city and wondered where the Heart of Gold was. If the thieves had been able to elude the roadblocks, it could be out of the country.

He rubbed his hands together. They didn't hurt in the slightest. His body and soul were as snugly united as they had ever been since the disastrous experiment. It was such a relief that Aubrey hardly knew how to feel about it. He'd been living with the constant threat of dissolution for so long, teetering on the brink of the true death, that having the hazard removed was oddly unsettling.

On a practical level, however, it meant that the energy and attention he'd had to devote to keeping himself from slipping toward the true death could now be turned to more useful ends. Like becoming a hero.

Aubrey snorted. He had to curb the Fitzwilliam Hero Impulse, no matter how much it appealed to him. He accepted that, in some ways, it was an exaggerated version of the Good Samaritan Complex, combined with a deep-seated (and hereditary) Decency Syndrome, but it did make matters difficult, at times.