Immediately, all struggling ceased. A throaty female voice responded. ‘Hugo, I hope you have a way out of this mess, for all our sakes.’
Von Stralick leaped as if the lorry had suddenly become red hot. ‘Zelinka? What are you doing here?’
‘Helping my friend George Doyle find you two, of course. Now, get me out of here.’
10
The drawing room of the main house had remained a drawing room, even while the rest of the place had been taken over by Dr Tremaine and his lackeys. It remained, however, a drawing room of a Holmland hunting lodge, which meant that it was full of furniture that was so heavy that each piece could be used to anchor a battleship. The walls were panelled with depressingly dark wood, but only a little of this could be seen in between the hunting trophies that made Aubrey think, as soon as he entered the room, that entire walls were looking at him.
The trophies were the stuffed and mounted heads of beasts that had proven they were slower, duller or unluckier than their comrades. Many of these were local animals – boar, a bear or two, even a few desperately unfortunate wolves – but some had obviously been brought in from far, far away. Unless, Aubrey reflected, a circus had become lost, crashed, and a horde of jungle animals had taken up residence in the woods of the Alemmani Mountains.
After von Stralick did his best to convince a sceptical Madame Zelinka that his gaunt appearance wasn’t a true reflection of his state of health, she sat on a vast leather sofa and, with some distaste, set about combing through her hair with her fingers to get rid of the remnants of the ensorcelled rubber bands. Her dark green, no-nonsense skirt and jacket were also sporting the remains of the rubber and von Stralick stood behind her, picking it off her shoulders.
George sat in an armchair, ran a hand over his short military crop, shrugged, glanced at his nondescript black trousers and jacket, shrugged again, then jammed a beret back on his head. ‘Lovely place. Have you had it long?’
Aubrey was delighted to see his old friend again, but his presence – and the presence of the mysterious Madame Zelinka – posed a thousand questions. Not the least of them concerned the whereabouts and health of Caroline Hepworth, and it had taken all of Aubrey’s strength of character not to try to shake the answer out of George in the driveway.
Aubrey couldn’t sit. He paced the room, back and forward in front of a dormant fireplace wide enough to roast an entire ox.
‘What were you doing driving a Holmland lorry?’ von Stralick asked.
‘We were coming up the mountain as it was coming down,’ Madame Zelinka said. ‘My Enlightened Ones insisted that I would be more comfortable driving than walking, so they took it.’
Von Stralick chuckled, rounded the sofa and sat by her side. ‘And the guards who were in this lorry?’
‘They are out there, in the woods. Under the watch of my people.’
‘What did you do to them, old man?’ George asked Aubrey. ‘They were terrified.’
‘I threw a scare into them. A magical scare.’
‘They panicked when they thought we were going to drag them back to this place. Quite happy, they were, to be tied up to trees.’
‘No doubt.’ Aubrey remembered their terror. ‘Now, George, what on earth are you doing here?’
George surrendered. ‘You win, Madame Z.’
‘If you insist. One of these Albionish wagering games,’ she said to a puzzled von Stralick. ‘Doyle wagered that he knew what question Fitzwilliam would ask first, and I had to guess another.’
Von Stralick was perplexed. ‘Your winnings?’
Madame Zelinka shrugged. Her face, usually grave, had a hint of a smile. ‘He owes me a favour. I shall call on it some time.’
George blinked. ‘Er… Not when it’s too inconvenient, if you don’t mind.’
‘What is inconvenient for you may be convenient for me. We shall see.’
Aubrey could never resist a sidetrack. ‘And what was the question you thought I’d ask first, George?’
‘I thought you’d ask about Caroline, old man.’ George grinned.
‘Ah.’
‘Remarkable strength of character, your forbearance. Before we get to her, though, you need to know that Madame Z and her pals have come over to our side.’
Madame Zelinka made a face. ‘We have not come over to your side, Doyle. How many times have I told you this?’
‘Probably a few dozen,’ George said. ‘All the way from Trinovant to here, if I recall correctly.’
‘We have ways and means to cross borders,’ Madame Zelinka said, responding to Aubrey’s naked curiosity. ‘The Enlightened Ones always have.’
‘Which is why the Directorate contacted them, apparently,’ George said. ‘Commander Craddock was hoping that they might be able to do something.’
‘This is only the third time in our history that we have abandoned our neutrality,’ Madame Zelinka said. ‘It is not done lightly, but Dr Tremaine…’
Aubrey jumped in. ‘Your people see the threat that Dr Tremaine is posing to the world?’
‘It is greater than you imagine, perhaps.’
‘Greater than destroying nations?’ George said. ‘Greater than killing hundreds of thousands of people?’
Madame Zelinka shook her head. ‘The wisest magicians in our order think that he aims to control magic himself.’ She looked at Aubrey. ‘Have you heard that he has been abducting magicians from all over the world?’
‘After seeing unwilling magicians being delivered here, I’d put two and two together.’
‘They are here?’
‘They’re gone now.’
She hissed through her teeth for a moment. ‘The magicians are part of his plan.’
‘How? What?’
‘We think that he has found a way to use their magical ability, whether they are willing or not.’
‘As if we needed another reason to stop him,’ George said gruffly.
‘Tell me about Albion,’ Aubrey said abruptly. ‘What about Mother and Father?’
George crossed his arms. ‘You’ll be pleased to know that your father did exactly as you wanted. You’ve been declared a traitor and you’ve been vilified the length and breadth of the land.’
‘Ah. That’s good.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say that it was good, but it was enough to save your father and the Progressive government, as you’d hoped. In fact, having been betrayed by a blackhearted villain of a son has actually gained Sir Darius a great deal of public sympathy.’
‘Splendid,’ Aubrey muttered.
George went on. ‘An ungrateful son, one who shunned his father’s example and spurned all that Albion had to offer.’
‘I think I understand the picture, George.’
‘Speaking of pictures, Holmland has supplied some of those photographs they took, with your being chummy with Baron von Grolman and the like.’
Aubrey sighed. ‘It was inevitable.’
‘While the newspapers aren’t printing them just yet, they’re all making reference to them. How you’re breaking the heart of your mother, betraying your country to the enemy, the promising talent who became the Turn-coat Thaumaturge, the Wicked Wizard, the Malignant Magician, the Dreadful Young Man.’
‘Dreadful Young Man?’
‘That was the Daily Post. They always have unconvincing headlines.’
Madame Zelinka tapped the armrest of the sofa. ‘I think that is enough, Doyle.’
‘Just giving him the flavour of the press.’ George fiddled with a cuff for a moment. ‘When news of the photographs was made public, the uproar was astounding, but thanks to your warning, at least everyone was calling for your head, old man, rather than calling for your father’s.’
Despite all this unfolding as planned, Aubrey was a little hollow inside. ‘And how are Mother and Father? Really?’
‘To the public, they’re heartbroken and dismayed,’ George said, ‘but, really, they’re proud, if a little concerned. They said to tell you that.’
‘You’ve seen them?’