‘I dealt with a compression device, sir. In Fisherberg. One that was constructed by the enemy.’
‘You did? By Jove, you could be just what we need. Tell me about it.’
Aubrey described the events of finding the compressed lightning spell outside Fisherberg Academy Hall, and how he barely managed to stop it exploding and wrecking the venerable building – a building with Prince Albert inside.
‘And what did you do? Remove it?’
‘No time for that, sir. I used a few variations on Harland James’s technique.’
Major Morton blinked. ‘But you’re alive.’
‘That was one of the main variations, sir, keeping the spell caster alive. The other variation was that it worked. I managed to graft something onto the existing spell with a temporal inversion constant and thus neutralise it. Long enough, anyway, to remove the package safely.’
‘You did that?’ Major Morton eyed him with something verging on respect. ‘But why haven’t I heard of this?’
‘I’m writing a paper on it, sir,’ Aubrey said, and he thought of the thirteen half-written papers on his desk at Maidstone. He really needed to finish some of them. ‘I just need some more time.’
‘Time. We could use some of that, I suspect. Come this way, have a look at what we’ve found.’
‘Go ahead,’ George said magnanimously. ‘We’ll wait here for you.’
‘No need,’ Major Morton said. ‘This was a double bunger.’
‘Double bunger?’
‘Two loads were dropped.’ He pointed with his pipe. ‘A regular high explosive bomb landed at that end of the courtyard, the magical bomb at this end. Head down to the high explosive number, there’s a good chap. They could use some help.’
‘Me?’ George said.
‘Commander Tallis said it would be useful if you got some practical experience of bomb disposal work.’ Major Morton chuckled. ‘Don’t worry. Spencer and Martin are working on it, our best team. You know what they say about the old and the bold, don’t you?’
George tore his gaze away from the far end of the crater. ‘Old and bold?’
‘“There are old bomb disposal operatives, and there are bold bomb disposal operatives, but there are no old, bold bomb disposal operatives.”’ He chuckled again. ‘Not to worry. Spencer is old, Martin is bold, so you’ll get the best of both worlds.’
‘Just as long as I don’t get blown to bits in either of them,’ George said, and he plodded off.
‘Now, Mattingly,’ Major Morton said. ‘You’re to meet with the Gallian codes department, to see their methods. It should be useful.’
Elspeth eyed Major Morton with what Aubrey could only describe as considerable affront. ‘Does that mean I don’t get to work on these bombs?’
Major Morton laughed. ‘Good Lord, no.’
‘I see.’ She fumed a little. ‘As liaison officer, I really must object.’
‘Object? On what grounds?’
‘On the grounds that I’d really like to work on those bombs.’
Major Morton glanced at Aubrey. ‘You’re new to the military, aren’t you?’
‘George and I have some experience.’
‘Then you understand about old-fashioned things like orders and discipline and such.’
Aubrey could see that Major Morton was going out of his way to be patient. ‘Elspeth, I think we need to get on with things as ordered.’
She glared at both of them. ‘All right. As long as this isn’t a conspiracy to keep females in their place. The world is changing, you know.’
She stormed off, leaving Aubrey to consider that Elspeth and Caroline had at least one thing in common.
With more than one backward glance, Elspeth crossed the courtyard.
‘Fine-looking young woman, that,’ Major Morton said. ‘Great asset to the forces.’
‘She just shot someone who tried to kill me,’ Aubrey said stiffly.
‘Did she now? Plucky as well as pretty. Good show.’
Aubrey wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. He didn’t have any argument over Elspeth’s prettiness – that was undeniable – and she certainly showed her pluck in confronting the would-be assassin. And she was pleasant to be with.
He snorted. He knew why she made him uncomfortable, despite all that. It was because of all that. Pretty, brave, intelligent, capable young women had a way of turning him to jelly, and he had never quite worked out what to do about it, apart from delight in their presence – and feel a pang at their absence.
Caroline.
‘This way, Fitzwilliam. Not afraid to get some dirt on your hands, are you?’
‘Coming, sir.’
A crumpled canister lay at the bottom of the crater, a few feet long, dark dull metal about as thick as his thigh. On the lip of the crater, Aubrey bent and put his hands on his knees while three operatives used small brushes to ease earth away from the metal. Not all of the canister was exposed, embedded as it was in the wall of the crater.
Aubrey could feel the magic without trying. It pulsed like a heart, malignant and heavy, and it was redolent with a tangle of complex spells. Aubrey worked his mouth, trying to clear the knotty taste that had insinuated itself as the magic played games with his senses.
‘Anything familiar there?’ Major Morton toyed with his pipe, passing it from hand to hand.
‘It’s definitely held together tightly, but I can’t...’ Aubrey’s voice trailed off. He was looking for any sign of Dr Tremaine’s handiwork, but nothing stood out. Nothing specific, that was. The spells crammed into the canister reminded him of Dr Tremaine, without his touch, as if they were copies of his efforts.
He straightened. ‘How many of these have fallen on Albion?’
Major Morton cocked an eyebrow. ‘Now, we don’t bandy classified information like that around willy-nilly, you know.’
‘It’s important.’
‘I rather thought it might be.’ Major Morton put his pipe in his mouth, chewed on it and then took it out again. ‘What if I tell you that several dozen of these magical canisters fell across Albion two nights ago? And about the same number of high explosive bombs?’
Several dozen? Each one would have taken hours to construct. Aubrey couldn’t see the rogue sorcerer standing at a conveyor belt casting spell after spell and making sure they were neatly compressed inside metal cylinder after metal cylinder. He wouldn’t have the patience for such repetitive stuff.
Without realising it, Aubrey started to hum, deep in his throat. No, he couldn’t imagine Dr Tremaine doing that, but...
Major Morton nudged his elbow. ‘Are you all right, Fitzwilliam?’
‘Sir?’
‘You were making an awful droning noise.’
‘Just thinking, sir.’
‘Well, I hope your thinking’s of some use. I don’t want that earthquake getting loose. Not here, in the middle of Trinovant.’
‘Earthquake? I’d assumed it was weather magic.’
‘They’re a cunning lot, those Holmlanders. They’ve dropped plenty of compressed weather magic on us, but also a few of these neatly packaged earthquakes. One got loose in Carlstairs on the coast, near the shipyard. Toppled half the cliff into the sea.’
Aubrey looked at the grand old buildings surrounding them. He swallowed. ‘So we need to render this one harmless.’