Heart of Gold

'We'll find another way, then,' Caroline said.

Aubrey was heartened by her confidence. He rubbed his hands together, slowly, and tried to think of a way to impress her with his ingenuity. Before he could, however, a bell-ringing juggernaut thundered past the restaurant. The patrons, stunned for a moment, rushed out and stood in front of the bistro, catcalling and gesticulating.

Aubrey couldn't sit idly and ignore such a commotion. While George and Caroline were still looking quizzically at the uproar, he was out of his chair. Joining the carters on the pavement, he watched the fire engine as it hurtled away from them, sparks flying from the shoes of the straining horses.

The carters cheered when another fire engine careered around the corner, nearly flinging off one of the grim, brass-helmeted firemen, and flew up the street after the first.

Aubrey sniffed the air, thoughtfully. George and Caroline emerged from the restaurant. 'A fire?' she asked.

'A large one,' Aubrey said. He found the proprietor of the bistro in the crowd and thrust a wad of notes into his hand as payment for their meal. 'I want to see the skyline, to get some idea where it is.'

'The river,' George suggested. 'The Martyr's Bridge is not far away.'

Standing in the middle of the Martyr's Bridge gave an unimpeded view of the city to the north and south. They weren't alone, either, as concerned Lutetian citizens had gathered to see the fiery spectacle.

Aubrey counted four separate fires away to the south. Flames raked the night sky and the smoke, stained red and orange, streamed away to the east, blown by the wind. The breeze brought the smell of char and ash to him, overwhelming the rotten smell that had overlaid the city for the last few days. The bells of fire engines swooped over the city like swallows.

A dog began to howl. Aubrey shivered. The sound was both forlorn and fierce, a sound from the dawn of time, when Lutetia was a few huts clustered on the banks of a river.

He straightened, blinking. 'Let's go.'

Caroline frowned. 'Where?'

'We need to find whatever's doing that howling.'

'We want a stray dog?'

He grinned. 'That was no dog. That was a wolf.'

Seventeen

AUBREY HAD HEARD WOLVES BEFORE, WHEN HE FISHED for salmon at Bertie's highland estate. The chorus of howls always began low, almost hiccuping, but when two or three or more wolves joined together, the howls became a reminder of the wild that lurked on the edge of civilisation.

Aubrey, George and Caroline stood on the Martyr's bridge, listening to the city noises – hooves and wheels on cobblestones, motorcar engines, the bells of far-off fire engines and the faint sounds of angry shouting.

Curling through these familiar, urban sounds was the cry of the wolf.

'Why are we looking for a wolf?' Caroline asked. 'Hasn't your meeting with the lion taught you anything about wildlife?'

'That's the exact point,' Aubrey said. 'Wildlife in the middle of Lutetia? And not just ordinary wildlife – animals that haven't been seen for years. It's not natural.'

'Agreed, old man,' George said. 'The city certainly isn't the place for beasties like that.'

'The lion, the bear and the aurochs had something magical about them. It could be the influence of the Heart of Gold, some side effect of its removal, or it might even be something to do with the sort of rogue magic that erupted on the Middle Bridge.' He drummed a fist against his thigh. 'I need more information.'

'Information is a light in the darkness,' Caroline said. She glanced at Aubrey with a wry smile. 'You're not the only one who has read the Scholar Tan, you know.'

Before Aubrey could overcome his astonishment and question her, the howling drifted to them again. George cocked his head, listening. 'This way.' He set off.

'George is a country lad at heart,' Aubrey explained to Caroline as they hurried to keep up with him. 'He's attuned to this sort of thing.'

George snorted. 'There hasn't been a wolf in our parts for centuries. Foxes, on the other hand . . .'

They crossed the bridge to the north bank and paused. 'We go that way,' George said, pointing. 'North-west.'

This took them through the financial district, with the forbidding façades of banks opposite the equally grim frontage of the stock exchange. The elegance and good taste of much of the city had barely touched this quarter, as if ornamentation would be frivolous.

With George leading, Aubrey walked next to Caroline – an arrangement he appreciated. At times, however, he had the impression that someone was following them. The stifled echoes of footsteps came to him, but when he glanced back, he could see nothing.

George stood at the intersection of three streets, frowning. The gaslight at the corner shed yellow radiance over a tobacconist's shop. 'Which way?' Aubrey asked.

'No idea. The wolf has stopped its howling. Weren't you paying attention?'

'I left it to you, George. Your sort of thing.'

'Urban wolf-hunting? I suppose it's the sort of thing a Renaissance man would be good at.'

Aubrey stood with his hands in his pockets. 'Where are we?'

'The Revolutionary Monument is just over there,' Caroline said.

In a gap between two official-looking buildings, a bronze globe poked its head up over the surrounding roofs. 'Well,' Aubrey said, 'if George has lost our quarry, I wouldn't mind seeing the shrine of modern Gallia.'

Whistling, he strolled toward the monument. Caroline sighed and went with him. So too did George, frowning and scanning the rooftops.

When they drew closer they saw that the monument was enclosed in a ramshackle structure made of boards and scaffolding. A sign announced that the landmark was in a dangerous condition and was being repaired.

Aubrey tilted back his head. The bronze globe protruded from the enclosure. In the sky, clouds were streaming past and they made the globe look as if it were moving.

'This is what I was talking about,' Caroline said. 'I kept coming across this sort of thing all over the place. It's as if the landmarks of the city are all being hidden away.'

'Really?' Aubrey gazed up at the monument. 'Perhaps the authorities are worried about sabotage.'

'I saw this sort of thing, too,' George said, 'when I was doing that genealogy business. I couldn't get into one church because of a gas leak. Or at least I think that's what the police officer said.'

Aubrey approached the hoarding. An enterprising local business owner had taken the opportunity to plaster them with posters for a revue. The stylised pictures of performers were unsettling in the shadowy light, as if they were terrified instead of cheery. 'George, you didn't bring that pry bar along, did you?'

'Pry bar? No.'

'Pity. I don't know how we're going to get a look inside otherwise.'

'Not again,' Caroline said.

'I beg your pardon?'