Heart of Gold

It was smeared, as if it had been softened and then pushed to one side by a giant thumb. Aubrey was fascinated. Such forces should have cracked the stonework, crumbled the concrete, but the very nature of the materials must have changed while they were being stretched. Most had returned to their original hardness, but the rubbery floor – fortunately – had retained its changed nature.

When they reached the temple, von Stralick held his sword stick ready and went first. George followed, while Aubrey came last.

The interior was quiet. They crossed the floor in a series of awkward, bouncing steps. Aubrey went onto his hands and knees and peered into the depths.

'See anything, old man?' George asked.

'Not yet.' Aubrey summoned a glow light, a novice's spell. He could make out the iron ladder clinging to the side of a round shaft two or three yards across, and a tunnel opening from it at the bottom. 'No wild beasts, no Holmlanders.'

He sat back on his haunches. The tunnel led north. The gardens extended for another mile or so in that direction. After that?

'Is it safe?' von Stralick asked.

'I've no idea.'

'The Heart of Gold?' George asked.

'It's not down there.'

'Not wanting to state the obvious, but that means it's somewhere else then. Any ideas?'

Aubrey shrugged. 'Von Stralick?'

The Holmlander clicked his tongue. 'Let us examine what lies beneath the temple. It may give us some notion of what Muller and Schnagel are up to.'

Von Stralick climbed down the ladder.

When Aubrey reached the bottom of the shaft, von Stralick had already entered the tunnel. From the light of Aubrey's glow spell, he could see that the Holmlander was bent nearly double, and he held his sword stick in front of him.

After about twenty or thirty feet, Aubrey stumbled out of the tunnel to find von Stralick standing upright, studying his surroundings. 'A bunker,' he declared. 'This is the refuge I spoke of. Probably built while the temple above was being constructed. Done secretly, of course.'

They were in a round area about four yards across. An oil lantern hung from the low ceiling, which was just above von Stralick's head, and another tunnel mouth opened opposite the one George just emerged from. A table and five mismatched chairs stood in the middle of the round space, and piles of bedding were thrown against the walls. Some of the bedding was torn and shredded. Four doors opened onto the area. None were closed, and in the closest Aubrey could see a fourdrawered cabinet and a desk. A map pinned to the wall of the room showed Lutetia and the environs.

'This belongs to Holmland?' George asked.

'It looks like one of ours, and we saw Muller and Schnagel enter.'

'D'you have any like it in Albion?'

Von Stralick smiled. 'Why would we have any refuges in Albion? And would I tell you if we did?'

'You've checked the rooms?' Aubrey asked. He cancelled his glow light, not needing it with the oil lantern.

'I did. We are alone.'

George kicked at a pile of bedding, then stepped back. 'I say. Blood.'

Aubrey went to his friend. The blankets were soaked in red. 'Whoever it belonged to would be in a very bad way by now.'

'We have a trail.' Von Stralick pointed at the floor with his sword stick. He took the oil lantern. 'The blood leads to the other tunnel.'

THE TUNNEL WAS WELL MADE – LINED WITH RED BRICK that kept it dry and solid. Aubrey found himself admiring the planning that had gone into preparing this hideyhole. Months of work, all of it secret, to construct something for an uncertain future.

The tunnel was unbranching, and Aubrey soon grew tired of walking hunched over. He knew that George and von Stralick, being taller, must have found it much more uncomfortable, but they didn't complain, shuffling along in silence.

Aubrey was entranced by the light of the bobbing oil lantern that von Stralick held up. The soft yellow light pushed away the darkness, showing the way through the unknown. He smiled at the image. It appealed to him, and he likened it to the search for knowledge – especially magical knowledge. More light, less darkness. More knowledge, less ignorance.

After some time, George spoke up. 'I say, von Stralick, where d'you think we are?'

'In a tunnel, my good friend. Any more than that I cannot say.'

'That's not very helpful,' George grumbled.

'I know this sort of tunnel,' von Stralick said with a touch of irritation. 'It's a back-door escape, in case the hideaway was compromised. If we follow it, we may find where Muller and Schnagel went.'

'Just as long as there are no traps or pits,' George said.

They walked in silence for some time. Aubrey took the chance to mull over the events of the past days. The events at the Marchmaine printing works were still puzzling him.

'Von Stralick.'

The Holmlander didn't turn around. 'Yes, my friend?'

'Why did Muller and his thugs attack the Marchmaine printing works?'

Von Stralick chuckled. 'I was wondering when you would ask about that.'

'Well?'

'Muller and Schnagel are rogues, out of control, but they are still Holmlanders. I'd say they're still interested in sowing strife between Marchmaine and the Gallian officials, to encourage Marchmaine to break away from the oppressors.'

It sounded plausible, but Aubrey knew enough not to take von Stralick at face value. 'And that's all?'

'Who knows? Perhaps they were after you. The son of the Albion Prime Minister, working for Marchmaine independence? What a scandal! The alliance would be under great strain, and with no alliance, do you think it would take long before Holmland was marching on Gallia?'

Aubrey went cold. He hadn't thought of that, and it gave him much to contemplate as they trudged on in silence.

By Aubrey's watch, they followed the blood trail for nearly an hour.

When it finally gave out onto the open, he heaved a great sigh and shaded his eyes from the sun. The fresh air was sweet and invigorating after the dry dustiness of the tunnel.

They were in a railway cutting, a few yards above a double track that bent away from them to the north and south. Aubrey examined the tunnel exit, which was cleverly concealed by a false signal box.

George groaned as he stretched and straightened. 'My back.'

A train screamed past in a cloud of steam, disappearing into the afternoon. 'We're near the Northside Station,' Aubrey said, remembering their arrival in Lutetia. He felt a tremor underfoot, but couldn't tell if it was caused by a nearby train or not. 'The shunting yards are just over there.'

Von Stralick kicked at the stone-covered ground with frustration. 'Muller and Schnagel will be well away by now.'

'Muller and Schnagel and one other man,' George said.

'What?' von Stralick said.

George pointed at the ground. It was soft and covered with boot prints. 'Definitely three pairs of boots here. Two of the men are able-bodied, one is limping. And bleeding.'