Von Stralick folded his hands on the table in front of him and stared at them. ‘He is well enmeshed in the Chancellor’s government. Very impressed with his work, they’ve been. Even though his plots in Gallia and Albion didn’t fully come to fruition, the disruption they caused was useful. After all, sometimes it’s just as good to have your enemy jumping at shadows, expending energy on things that aren’t there.’
‘Commander Tallis told me he was a sort of special adviser,’ Caroline said, ‘working with many different departments.’
‘Mainly with the army and the navy,’ von Stralick said. ‘They like his ideas.’
Aubrey shuddered, but he was still thinking about Caroline’s remark. How often had she been reporting to Commander Tallis? ‘So Dr Tremaine works to prepare their armed forces, advise their magical researchers, creating havoc wherever he can. And he’s shown he can reach out to strike here.’
‘Papers were full of the stormfleet descending on Greythorn,’ George put in. ‘Dashed effective of him. People are watching the skies and raising the alarm whenever a flock of sparrows swoops overhead.’
‘Showy, theatrical, effective,’ von Stralick said. ‘That sounds like him, doesn’t it?’
‘Enough is enough,’ Caroline said. ‘We must neutralise him.’
‘The best plan seems to be that we lure him here,’ Aubrey said, conscious that an idea had graduated to an altogether firmer status, ‘to Albion, to our home ground. We trap him, and hand him over to the authorities.’
Aubrey noted how Caroline looked away at that, but before he could question her, von Stralick held up a finger. ‘This depends on having something to lure him with.’
Aubrey was conscious that all eyes were on him. He took a deep breath and put both hands on the table. ‘We do,’ he said. ‘His late sister.’
The reactions were as varied as the people around the table. George leaned forward and looked thoughtful. Caroline stiffened. Von Stralick opened his mouth, but was cut off by Kiefer, who raised a hand and waved it wildly. ‘Sylvia Tremaine? Dead. No, this isn’t so.’
Aubrey had the sequence of events all organised in his head – he’d suggest a plan, it would be pooh-poohed, then discussed, then modified, then discarded, then resuscitated, then banged into shape and then applauded – but Kiefer had derailed this neatly.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said. His hard-learned tact kept him from the first response that came to his mind, which was, ‘Are you stark, raving mad, Kiefer?’
‘Dr Tremaine’s sister,’ Kiefer said, with rather less certainty now everyone was looking at him. ‘She is lost, not dead. She vanished and has never been found.’
General mayhem ensued as everyone spoke at once. Everyone, except – for once – Aubrey. He was too stunned.
Dr Tremaine’s past was shrouded in mystery. He cultivated this and never denied a rumour, no matter how outlandish. He seemed to have come from nowhere– although gossip had it that he was born on the Continent, in Antipodea, the Americas or to a disreputable peer– and proceeded to cut a swathe through society with his riches and through academia with his intellect. He also wrestled, sang, painted and shot with the best of them.
The only family he ever mentioned was his sister, Sylvia, and he always spoke of her as if she had passed away a long time ago. It garnered him much sympathy, especially among tender-hearted women.
He told me his sister had died, Aubrey thought, but truthfulness isn’t Dr Tremaine’s strongest suit. ‘Kiefer, where did you get this information?’
‘I heard it,’ Kiefer mumbled, ‘in Fisherberg.’
‘In Fisherberg?’ George said. ‘This is useful stuff, Kiefer. Did you hear it from someone in the Chancellor’s government?’
‘No,’ Kiefer said in a small voice. Then he actually blushed. Two bright spots of red rushed to his cheeks and he dropped his head. The hands he’d clasped in front of him were suddenly fascinating.
Caroline tapped the table. ‘Where did you hear it, Otto?’
Kiefer sighed and lifted his head. He spread his hands. ‘Gossip. Coffee house gossip.’
His gaze darted around the table and his face fell at the reception this revelation received. He rallied and went on. ‘You see, among students, Dr Tremaine is a topic of much fascination. Where he is from, what he’s up to, where he gets his clothes ... A few items are accepted fact. That his sister survived her illness is one of them.’
George snorted. ‘Are we going to rely on gossip?’
Von Stralick coughed. ‘I too, have heard this. I understood it to be common knowledge in Fisherberg.’
Aubrey rubbed his face with both hands. ‘Perhaps there’s a way to find out if she is alive.’
‘I suppose we could ask Dr Tremaine,’ von Stralick said, ‘but I don’t know if he’d be forthcoming.’
Aubrey smiled. He took the velvet bag from his appurtenances vest and shook it into his palm. He held up the Tremaine pearl. ‘She gave this to him. I was going to suggest we put it on display, a public display. George could work on getting publicity in the papers, Dr Tremaine would hear about it and then...’ He rubbed his chin. ‘But first, I think I can use it to see if Sylvia is still alive.’
Kiefer started. ‘Of course! The Principle of Familiarity!’
Aubrey nodded, saw the mystified expressions and explained. ‘Inanimate objects can form connections with people, if they’re in contact with them for long enough. The human consciousness impinges itself on the object, as it were.’
‘Yes,’ Kiefer said. He leaned forward and slapped his hands on the table in front of him in a rapid drumbeat. ‘Yes. And if the object is removed from the person, from their consciousness, the separation is hurtful to it. The object yearns for its owner, longs to be reunited.’
‘A trifle more anthropomorphic than I’d put it,’ Aubrey said, ‘but the principle remains. It’s one we can use, with the correct preparation, to point the way to Sylvia Tremaine.’
‘Just like we used the brick from the tower of the Magic Faculty in Lutetia to point the way to the Heart of Gold?’ George said.
‘I used the Law of Constituent Parts there,’ Aubrey said and he noted the look of intense interest on Kiefer’s face. ‘That’s for connections between inanimate objects. The relationship between people and objects is more complex.’
And the spell will be more complex, he thought, running through the possibilities in his head and feeling the rising of his pulse that signalled a challenge was in sight.
Caroline and George exchanged a glance. ‘You’re going to do some spell casting here?’ she said. ‘Is that wise?’
Aubrey steered a course and only answered the first question. ‘Yes, right here. But let me do a little probing, first, just to make certain.’
Kiefer rubbed his hands together, eagerness itself. ‘I’m keen to see your magic at work. The new style Albion rationalism is all the talk in Fisherberg.’
Aubrey suddenly felt self-conscious. He wondered if it was because of von Stralick’s noting every move. Or perhaps it was Kiefer’s extreme attention, as if he were observing an operation. He focused on George and Caroline instead. He wanted to let them know that he felt stronger than he had in ages, much more able to undertake complex magic.
He flexed his shoulders. A simple probing spell. Even though all magical observation affected the object observed in some way (the Principle of Conscious Scrutiny), he felt it was worth it, especially if he could construct his observation spell to have the lightest of touches, a mere feather brush so Aubrey could detect anything unusual about the pearl before he proceeded further. It was wise, judicious spellcraft.
Feeling all eyes upon him, he reached for the notebook and pencil he had in his jacket pocket. Kiefer grunted with approval, then suddenly swore, thrust back his chair and stood. ‘Don’t do anything. I think I left the kettle on.’