They had enough clay for thirty-two, a number Aubrey judged had no auspicious or inauspicious connotations, so he was happy with it. The mannikins lay in two rows on a length of canvas that von Stralick produced. He rubbed his hands together and ran through the spell in his mind. Caroline handed him a wet cloth and he thanked her absently.
He cleared his throat and was aware of Sophie and the watching Enlightened Ones, so he did his best to uphold the great traditions of Albionite spell casting. He strove to look calm, dignified, very much in control – not someone who hadn’t bathed for five days and who had a substantial amount of clay smeared all over him.
He began in his best Etruscan, and several of the Enlightened Ones smiled in recognition. He was careful not to hurry, and he counted a beat in his head to help him roll through each element in measured, round tones.
A final, modest signature element, and he was done.
The mannikin nearest to him quivered. A shiver ran through the next, and the next, running along the row, as if they were connected with wires. The first mannikin swelled, its rough limbs filling out and becoming more solid. Just as its neighbour began the same swelling process, the first mannikin bent in the middle and sat up, trembling. A few seconds later – where Aubrey had the distinct impression it was gathering its wits, what little of them it had – and it stood and swayed slightly, the first of his golem squad.
Aubrey heard some murmurs of approval from the Enlightened Ones, but most of his attention was on monitoring the progress of the spell. Ten minutes later and the golems were all ready. They stood solemnly like so many faceless gingerbread men.
Aubrey took a deep breath. A complicated spell, made all the more complicated by the numbers he was juggling, and he could feel the toll it had taken. Some of his weariness was no doubt due to the lateness of the hour, and the long, taxing day they’d been through, but the spell had had an effect. His limbs were weary, and he was sure his hands would be trembling if he wasn’t holding them together. As he stood there inspecting his work, he could sense each of the golems and their physical location, even if he closed his eyes. The connection element was working.
He was embarking on a dangerous strategy. Another dangerous strategy. The connection ran both ways – it could be traced back to him, revealing his location, leading the enemy to their position. Sending the mannikins was potentially compromising their security and jeopardising their ability to observe the facility in secret.
He knew this. He knew it was a risk – but the reward of detailed information about the inner workings of the factory was great enough for him to proceed. The mannikins would have to be furtive, clinging to shadows and avoiding notice at all times. He wanted them to be mice in the wainscoting, not elephants barging through the jungle.
‘Follow,’ he said, keeping his commands simple, knowing that this was essential for golems of this order.
Without looking back, aiming for an air of utter confidence, he led the mannikins up the stairs, through the trapdoor, and through the farmhouse until he could point at the factory steaming away above the tree tops to the north. He took a deep breath and pointed. ‘Go. Observe. Report back to me. Don’t be seen by anyone.’
The mannikins, as one, leaned in the direction of the factory, then back toward Aubrey, like grain in the wind. Then they set off, running stiff-legged though the night. They ran in slightly different directions, through the grassy field, then plunging into the woods that separated the farm from the factory.
Aubrey dusted his hands together. ‘Now, we wait.’
Waiting was always frustrating for Aubrey, and after three hours with no appearance from his mannikins, he was on edge. He began to find the kitchen increasingly small, especially after Caroline narrowed her eyes at his finger-drumming and foot-jiggling. After the first hour, when it became apparent that no quick mannikin return was imminent, some of the Enlightened Ones retired. Those unwilling or unable to sleep stayed in the kitchen and talked in the candlelight, low voices discussing families, magic and war. Caroline took up a position by Aubrey’s side as the talk moved and flowed through loved ones left behind, to the mandate and heritage of the Enlightened Ones, then into discussion of Dr Tremaine and his motives, expanding into magic in general. Aubrey asked about the pidgin used to communicate among Enlightened Ones of different backgrounds, which launched a discussion of the connection between magic and language that made Caroline yawn. She apologised, and did her best to stay with what became a technical discussion. Aubrey was startled, however, a moment later, to feel her head against his upper arm. He immediately lost track of the finer distinctions between Babylonian and Sumerian and he stopped talking, just in case he was lapsing into unintelligibility. Carefully, he sneaked a glance at Caroline’s restful face and immediately, he was lost in admiring how the hair curled around her ears and the sweep of her eyelashes, closed in well-earned sleep.
‘Fitzwilliam.’ Aubrey carefully turned to see von Stralick. The Holmlander’s smile was without malice. Aubrey looked around. The other Enlightened Ones had gone. How long had he been looking at Caroline? ‘We are going to get some sleep. You should, too.’
‘I will,’ Aubrey whispered. His arm was numb from being in the one position for so long, but nothing on earth could have made him move it. ‘I thought I might inspect the perimeter before I do. How many are on watch?’
‘Four. Approach them carefully.’ Von Stralick touched his forehead. ‘I forgot. Your Doyle and the delightful Delroy girl are out there as well.’
‘They are?’
‘They volunteered. Our people have been here on alert for two weeks. I thought you newcomers could help share the burden.’
‘Of course.’
Von Stralick saluted with only a touch of irony and left Aubrey and Caroline alone, with a single candle for light.
Happiness sometimes came unasked for and unlooked for, Aubrey decided. Sweaty, dirty, in danger and at war wasn’t the sort of situation he’d anticipated would bring about contentment, but he knew it was the addition of Caroline to that equation that made the difference. She made his heart beat faster, his breath come more awkwardly, his throat tighten, but the physiological effects were only part of how she moved him.
He liked to think – he liked to hope – that they had a connection. Not a magical one, unless it was the ordinary yet miraculous magic that wove its way through all human history. No, it was the connection that set two people apart from the others about them. It was the connection that outlasted and overrode exasperation, irritation and frustration. It worked on conscious levels of liking how someone looked, but it also wrapped the two of them up in a million ways impossible to disentangle from each other. It was a connection that, in some ways, could best be defined by its absence: he ached when he wasn’t with her.
He wanted her to feel the same.
He sat bolt upright, every muscle taut. ‘Connection.’
Caroline hardly moved. She opened one eye. ‘I may get tired of asking this one day,’ she said sleepily, ‘but are you all right, Aubrey?’
‘I feel it. The connection.’
She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her hair was in magnificent disarray. She stretched and yawned. ‘Aren’t you connected to your mannikins? Isn’t that what you’re feeling?’