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‘Rightfully ours,’ Sophie said wistfully. She twisted George’s handkerchief in her hands. ‘That’s how he said it.’

‘It’s worrisome,’ Aubrey ventured. ‘Whenever I hear “rightfully” I hear entitlement and pride.’

‘He did not always use language like that,’ Sophie said. ‘Not before he met ... her.’

Sophie’s unhappiness invested that single word with something approaching contempt. Unsurprising, Aubrey thought – not without an ironic sense of his own situation – a sudden change in a young man after meeting a young woman.

‘Where did he meet her?’ George said, filling in the awkward silence as they each contemplated young men and young women.

‘Yvette was a fellow music student, at the Conservatorium. She asked him to a political meeting and he was never the same again.’

‘What sort of political meeting?’ Caroline asked.

‘Théo was never very clear about that. I thought it sounded like anarchists, then he began talking as if it were a workers’ party. Rabble rousers, is that what you call them? Much talk and little action.’

‘We know the type,’ Aubrey said. They’d had encounters with groups like that in Albion. With unease, he remembered how they’d been infiltrated by Holmland security and had nearly pulled off a plot to kill the King. This had been the affair that had introduced Aubrey to the world of espionage and secret plots – and the machinations of Dr Mordecai Tremaine, who was the puppet master behind the Army of New Albion. He had manoeuvred these deluded fools and convinced them that exploding a bomb during the King’s Birthday Parade was more than a good idea, it was a patriotic idea. Aubrey had managed to disrupt this plot, as well as rescue his father from Dr Tremaine’s clutches.

‘Lots of hot air.’ George patted her hand. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

‘It became very serious. He abandoned all his old friends, he ignored us, and he went off with these new people. Mother and Father are heartbroken.’ She paused, and swallowed hard. ‘I ... At first, my father was sure that he had been beguiled.’

‘He suspected magic was involved?’

‘He thought so, but then dismissed it. Father had some magic, a long time ago. He still reads about it, in journals, in between his work for the government.’

Aubrey had heard enough already to have his curiosity – both professional and personal – leaping into action. He remembered his grandmother’s correspondence with Sophie’s father. ‘Your father works for the government?’

‘Two years ago he was asked to assist, in finance, by those who could see war was very close. He has been very busy.’

‘So I imagine. And he believes that Théo has had a spell cast on him? It sounds unlikely.’

Sophie’s upper lip quivered. ‘But he changed, so much, he was not our Théo. What else could explain such a thing? How could he do anything so foolish?’

Aubrey didn’t have to look far to find an example of a young man doing foolish things, even without the help of a mirror. He kept mute and George took up. ‘So you’ve come looking for him?’

‘To talk,’ Sophie said. ‘I must talk to him. He sent me a few letters. He is here, but not so easy to see.’

‘Why not?’ George said, indignation making his shoulders swell ominously. ‘The camp commandant can’t very well refuse him a visit from his own sister.’

‘It is not that.’ Sophie looked to the north-east again at the sound of shelling.

‘He’s out there,’ Caroline guessed. ‘You can’t see him until he gets back.’

No-one said the ‘if’ word but it hung in the air, an unwelcome visitor.

Sophie bit her lip and looked away. ‘No. It is even worse than that.’

‘Worse?’ George said. ‘What’s worse than being hunkered down in an artillery battle?’

‘Théo did not enlist in the Gallian army.’ Sophie used the handkerchief again. ‘Just before war was declared, he went over the border to Stalsfrieden. He joined the Holmland army.’

Aubrey nearly looked around to see who had thrown a bucket of cold water over him, then he realised it was simply the shock of Sophie’s announcement. Her brother was a Holmland soldier? Fighting against his own countrymen?

A train whistle sounded. Aubrey leaped to his feet and seized the field glasses.

‘Aubrey,’ Caroline said fiercely. ‘Stop that.’

‘Stop what? Stop continuing with our mission?’

‘The train can wait. Sophie needs our help.’

I didn’t hear her ask for help. ‘What can we do?’

‘Anything we can,’ George said.

‘Now, Sophie, I’m sure we can help you find him. Then you can talk some sense into him,’ Caroline said.

Aubrey hesitated, then threw caution to the winds. ‘So we’re going wander about, not just in wartime but in an actual battle, find her brother and then change his mind for him? Make him see the error of his ways? In the middle of the Holmland army? And then bring him home again, through said battlelines?’

George looked at Sophie. ‘Do you know exactly where Théo is?’

She shrugged. ‘His letters he sent, before war was declared, said he was part of a detachment in Stalsfrieden.’

‘Stalsfrieden? Doing what, exactly?’ Aubrey asked.

‘Guarding. So boring, he said, even though the factory was important.’

‘Don’t look like that, Aubrey,’ George said. ‘Stalsfrieden must have plenty of important factories.’

Aubrey agreed, but he had to press. ‘Sophie, did Théo say anything else about the factory?’

She frowned and put a finger to her lips. ‘He said it was a strange place, and he wrote about something he thought was funny. In the middle of the factory grounds were big animals.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Aubrey said.

‘Jungle animals. Made of concrete.’

It must be, Aubrey thought. ‘Anything else?’

‘No. But he wasn’t the only one who thought the animals funny. He said that the owner, Baron von Grolman, laughed whenever he walked past them.’

The train whistle sounded, closer.

Aubrey looked at George, who shrugged. Caroline looked thoughtful.

‘So your brother is stationed at Baron von Grolman’s factory in Stalsfrieden?’ Aubrey sighed. ‘All right. Let’s see what we can do.’

The train whistle sounded again, shrill and echoing from the hills, as the locomotive chuffed and laboured along the tracks. Aubrey swung up the field glasses to see the train coming off the curve to the south and working hard on the approaches to the railway bridge. The ironwork crossed the Mosa, a latticework against the grey and lowering sky, holding the bridge high above the broad expanse of the river. Artillery boomed in a thumping counterpoint to the steam engine. A coal barge slipped underneath the bridge on its way downstream.

Aubrey’s gaze lingered on the bridge. It was an example of fine engineering, three long arches. It looked both solid and graceful, with two magnificently curved iron trusses supporting the spans. Three massive piers in local stone stood in the river, impervious to flood.

Aubrey focused more closely on the central pier. On closer inspection, it was actually an amalgamation of a number of octagonal iron columns and stone blocks. He was impressed by its sturdiness, and the way the materials were interlocked, but he frowned when he spied a number of ominous shapes near water level. They were strikingly out of place, looking makeshift against the elegant construction of the pier, made of wood and metal in various proportions. With growing apprehension, Aubrey counted half a dozen of them surrounding the pier, linked by wire, and he was sure more would be found on the other side.