Heart of Gold

He had a number of challenges placed in front of him. All of them were worthwhile and honourable. Some were relatively trivial, others were daunting. If he could fulfil them he'd be helping people he respected and doing his part to prevent a war.

And proving yourself? a voice whispered.

Aubrey thrust his fists in the pockets of his jacket. He stalked around the turret. He didn't like to think that his actions were prompted by something as trivial as measuring himself against his father, but he was honest enough to admit that an element of that was always lurking.

Sir Darius had high expectations of people. An idealist, his opponents called him, but it was a trait that had inspired his troops and it continued to inspire loyalty. People tended to rise to challenges that Sir Darius set, often achieving things they never thought they could.

Aubrey had observed this all his life. He'd seen his father's aides, colleagues and confederates become substantial figures in their own right, thanks to Sir Darius's guidance.

With his own son, however, Sir Darius refused to make his expectations explicit. He said he wanted Aubrey to set goals for himself.

Aubrey's answer was to look at what his father was doing and to try to do much the same thing, equally well. Of course, being competitive by nature, that actually meant doing these things better.

Maurice appeared, tromping up the stairs and interrupting Aubrey's thoughts. 'Here's your brick.'

He heaved it at Aubrey, who caught it in both hands. He felt a deep, distant tingle. 'Any problems?'

'None to speak of. Dusty place, those rooms. I'll give them a good clean-out when I get a chance.'

Aubrey didn't have time to thank the porter. George rushed up the stairs brandishing a large roll of paper. 'One map of Lutetia, as ordered.'

'Where did you get it so quickly?' Aubrey unrolled a detailed chart of the city.

'We're in a university. I guessed it would have a cartographic department. Full of mapmakers, cartographic departments are.'

'George, your Gallian is abysmal. How could you find a cartographic department, explain what you want and then negotiate for it?'

George waved a hand. 'I pride myself on my resourcefulness. Present me with a difficulty and I find a way around it.'

'You had help, didn't you?'

'Not at all. I crossed the road to the nearest café. I slapped a hundred-Gallia note on the bar and said it was for the first person who could get me a detailed map of Lutetia. In five minutes I had three to choose from. Money is an international language, I've found.'

'You're a marvel, George.'

'I do try, old man.'

George supplied a pencil. With it, and with Maurice pointing out the landmarks, Aubrey was able to trace a line on the map in the direction the tower was leaning.

Maurice saw them to the door. 'The Heart of Gold's gone missing, has it?'

'It's supposed to be a secret,' Aubrey said. 'But we want to find it.'

'And return it to where it belongs?'

'That's our aim,' George said.

'Do that.' The porter rubbed his hands together and inspected the sky. The sun was a dull, brassy colour. The few clouds were ragged and fretful, despite the lack of wind. 'The city isn't the same without it.'

Maurice left, clanging down the stairs.

'What did he mean by that?' George asked.

As if in answer, the air over the city rippled, and the tower shook. Aubrey felt a wave of magic pass. 'I'd say that the sooner it's returned, the better.'

AUBREY AND GEORGE TOOK A LATE LUNCH AT AN EATERY NEAR the Ironmonger's Bridge. Aubrey devoured his omelette with relish, enjoying the return of both his appetite and his sense of taste. He enjoyed the clean taste of basil, and the bite of the black pepper, and realised he'd missed such homely pleasures.

His attention was drawn by the water in the river. He stared, his fork in mid-air. 'Do you notice anything about the Sequane, George?'

George looked up from a Lutetian newspaper he'd picked up through force of habit. 'Sorry, old man, just getting up-to-date with the goings on in the Assembly.'

'Don't lie, George, it doesn't become you. Look out there and tell me what you see.'

George peered through the window. 'Water. Boats. Ducks. Nothing extraordinary.'

'But look how slowly the boats are travelling, even with the current.'

George folded the paper and stared. 'The wake looks strange, too.'

'And see how distressed the ducks are? They're having trouble climbing out of the water.'

'Bizarre.'

'I can feel the magic.' Aubrey leaned closer to the window.' George, it looks as if the water is getting thicker.'

They paid for their lunch and went to the river bank. A man in a striped shirt was sitting in a rowing boat a few yards away, cursing as he worked the oars. Each pull seemed a huge effort.

The wake from the vessels was washing sluggishly against the stone retaining walls, as if the waves were made of treacle.

'Out of the ordinary, that,' George observed.

The low level of magic emanating from the river prickled on Aubrey's skin. He stared at the water and rubbed his hands together, as if this could ease his foreboding.' The river's been affected by the loss of the Heart of Gold.'

George picked up a pebble and tossed it at the river. It struck the surface and stayed there for a second or two before slowly sinking. 'Then we'd better restore it. Can't have a solid river in a city like this. Dashed unattractive.'

'It's more serious than that. Tons of goods come into the city via the river. If no food comes from the countryside, Lutetia will become very hungry, very soon.'

George was startled and eyed the river with serious distaste. 'What are we dawdling for, old man? Let's go.'

Aubrey had wrapped his brick in newspaper to avoid stares and he cradled it in both hands as they made their way across the city. At times, he felt a faint stirring as the brick tried to orient itself toward the Heart of Gold, but the movements were too faint to be trusted. Aubrey knew he would have to amplify them before he could be certain of its direction-finding ability.

He led them to Autumn Park, on the other side of the Plaza of Democracy. George smiled, took off his new boater and scratched his head. 'Good thinking, old man. Fine view from there.'

'The Exposition Tower has the best view in Lutetia.'

The Exposition Tower was by far the tallest structure in the city. In its short lifetime it had already changed from an object of controversy to a symbol of the city itself. A complex meshwork of thousands of interlocking girders held together by millions of rivets, it had been called a monstrosity, a ironmonger's nightmare, a modern miracle and a dream in steel. Of late, it had been used as a marvellous antenna for the new radio machines. At night, the most advanced electric lights made the Exposition Tower shine, a beacon in the darkness that could be seen for miles.