Heart of Gold

Dr Romellier scowled at Gabriel. 'Dr Tremaine was right,' he said in Gallian, 'these thieves came to steal my monograph.'

Gabriel slapped the ornithologist on the back and grinned. 'Don't worry. We'll take care of them.'

Aubrey heard Gabriel's threat, but only distantly. He was still stunned at what Dr Romellier had said.

Dr Tremaine. He's mixed up in all this!

Aubrey feverishly began to rethink all his suppositions and assumptions about the events of the past few weeks – but this time factoring in the malevolent involvement of the ex-Sorcerer Royal of Albion.

Things were much, much worse than he'd thought.

GABRIEL SAT ON A WOODEN CHAIR, HUNCHED OVER, ELBOWS on his knees. His cold eyes examined them.

They were in an office in one enclosed corner of the vast space of the hangar. Through the slatted blinds on the windows, Aubrey could make out the beginnings of a new dirigible where the previous one had been destroyed.

The furniture in the office seemed as if it was intended to send the message that this was a no-nonsense facility. The desk, the shelves, the cabinets were all made of grey metal. The only wooden item of furniture was Gabriel's chair.

Aubrey spent some time kicking himself for dragging his friends into danger like this, then quickly moved onto trying to think of a way out. He could kick himself some more later – if they managed to escape.

Aubrey was aware of the two gunmen standing behind their chairs, and he was sure they weren't there for moral support. He opened his mouth and Gabriel pointed a finger, interrupting him. 'If you begin a spell,' he said in Albionish, 'Leon will hit you very hard. Then he will gag you with a filthy cloth.'

'No,' Aubrey said and he mentally tore up his first plan, 'no magic. I just want to know why we've suddenly become enemies. We've proved that we're friends to Marchmaine.'

'And friends to Holmland. You've been seen with von Stralick.'

'The diplomat?'

'Do not play the fool with me. We all know he is a spy.'

'So? Lutetia is always full of spies.'

'The situation has changed.'

'The political situation?'

'It is on a slippery slope now. No-one can stop the government from falling.' He stood. 'Guard them,' he said to his two men.

'Wait,' Aubrey said in Gallian. He gestured at the men behind him. 'Have you told them what's going on? I think they deserve to know that they're going to be turned into wild beasts.'

One of the men behind him shifted and spoke, his voice deep but uncertain. 'Gabriel?'

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. 'Do not listen to him, Leon,' he said in Gallian. 'He knows nothing.'

Aubrey continued in Gallian, giving the guards every opportunity to hear. 'How many men have been transformed so far? Ten? More? I'd think you'd be running out of volunteers by now, which would mean you're not telling the poor souls what they're in for.'

Aubrey felt it then – a ponderous magical pulse. He flinched at the raw power, and even the brick dust in his pocket, inert though it had become, trembled. The others in the small room also seemed to feel something for they all blinked and looked around uncertainly.

An eerie silence fell in the hangar outside. To Aubrey it was like those odd moments in a crowded room where, inexplicably, everyone stops talking at once.

Then an ear-splitting roar split the silence apart.

Gabriel made for the door. 'Do not let them escape!' he barked over his shoulder.

The roaring was huge and bestial, and came from the road outside the hangar. As it grew, it seemed to spawn a chorus of terrified shouts. Then the scream of tearing sheetmetal added to the pandemonium. Running figures flitted past the slatted blinds.

For the guards' benefit, Aubrey continued to speak in Gallian, raising his voice over the noise. 'It sounds as if they've lost another guard,' he said to Caroline.

She answered in the same language, raising an eyebrow to show she understood. 'It's awful what's happened to them. I don't know how their commanders could do it.'

George knew that something was afoot. He nodded vigorously, doing his best to help.

The guard behind Aubrey clipped him with a meaty hand. 'Tell us what is happening.'

Aubrey rubbed the back of his head. 'You haven't been told? That is very poor.'

Glass shattered nearby and the ground shook, but the corrugated iron outer wall held solid. Aubrey hoped that the guards' imagination would create something much worse than the reality – whatever that was.

'I will see what is happening,' one of the guards said.

'Don't, Leon. We must wait for Gabriel.'

The conversation between the two guards frustrated Aubrey. He couldn't turn around to see their faces, to judge their mood. Their voices were edgy and uncertain, though, and he hoped to be able to turn that to his advantage.

Leon apparently wasn't impressed by his comrade's point of view. 'I'm tired of Gabriel. He's grown too sure of himself. I wonder about his commitment to Marchmaine.'

'But Gabriel is the leader of the Sons of Victor! How can you doubt his loyalty?'

Aubrey decided that Leon was rather more cynical than his comrade. Silently, he cheered him on.

'Where did Gabriel come from?' Leon asked. 'He claims he was born and raised in Chrétien, but I never knew him and I spent my life there before joining the movement.'

Through the glass, Aubrey could see that panic was rife in the hangar. Men armed with rifles were running toward the angry roaring. A lorry raced through an open door, almost colliding with four men who were carrying a large girder. As good a time as any, Aubrey thought. He caught Caroline and George's attention. He nodded very, very slightly and eased himself around in his chair, ready to leap at the arguing guards.

One guard – tall, beefy, perfect for the job – shifted and pointed his revolver directly at Aubrey. A distant part of his brain found it interesting to note that it was a Holmland military pistol, an Albers Special. He'd heard it was a very efficient firearm and, staring right into the huge barrel, he was willing to accept this without any further proof.

'Do not do anything,' Leon said in thickly accented Albionish.

'You speak Albionish!' George said.

Leon sneered. 'Do not think I am stupid, just because I am a guard.'

While Aubrey would normally have enjoyed pursuing the discussion of stereotypes and assumptions, it was at that moment that gunfire sounded from outside the hangar. Immediately the roaring on the other side of the corrugated iron rose to a furious bellowing. The ground shook, then, with a deafening crash, the wall bulged as something huge slammed into it. The metal table and cabinet against the wall were hurled across the room.

Aubrey dived to one side and felt the metal table whistle past his head. He hit the floor to see that Leon and the other guard weren't so lucky. Standing as they were, the table struck them squarely, followed by the cabinet.