As long as it’s a passive watcher spell, he thought. The possibility of it being rather more aggressive did cross his mind, but he thought it wiser not to raise this.
Aubrey asked Caroline to choose a door. Without hesitating, she took them through the northern door; once again they were in the stone walls of the prison corridors.
Caroline raised an eyebrow at Aubrey. ‘Well?’
‘Let me see what I can do.’
Caroline adopted an alert attitude, doing her best not to look at Aubrey. George and von Stralick, too, were on guard.
Which left Aubrey to ply his magic.
This should be straightforward, he thought, and his hand brushed the bump of the Beccaria Cage under his shirt. It no longer felt warm, but now was not the time to investigate.
Straightforward. All he wanted to do was use his magical awareness to sense the density of the surrounding magic, hoping to trace it to its source. Since this whole place was a magical construct, it was imbued with power, every wall, every stone positively dripping with it. If he concentrated he hoped to be able to detect differences, quite unlike trying to trace magic in the ordinary world, where its faintness was easily swamped by the vigour of the everyday.
He wasn’t trying to cast a spell. It shouldn’t arouse the interest of the guardian. Using his magical awareness was passive, like a radio antenna catching messages crossing the ether.
He closed his eyes and concentrated, extending his awareness to the surroundings, and immediately gasped. To his magical senses, the walls of the prison corridor were dull, glowing blocks, beating ruddily like coals in the heart of a fire. When he turned, he could also feel the floor and ceiling, radiating magic with the same muted intensity.
He took a step, eyes still closed, and bumped straight into someone. Immediately, he knew it was Caroline. His eyes flew open and he apologised, but Caroline shook it off. ‘Didn’t you see me?’ she asked.
‘I had my eyes closed.’ He thought about it. ‘I can sense the walls, but not you.’ He shut his eyes and extended his awareness again. He swivelled his head. The construction of the prison corridor was clear, if dim, but all he could sense with his pseudo-sight was the structure. He couldn’t see Caroline, or George, or von Stralick. And when he looked down, he couldn’t see himself. The only things that registered were those imbued with magic.
‘It helps to keep my eyes closed, but I need to keep moving,’ Aubrey said to them after he opened his eyes again. ‘That way I can detect the fluctuations in the magic field and steer us in the right direction.’
‘Here.’ Caroline offered her arm. ‘I’ll lead you.’
It was all Aubrey could do not to jump at the opportunity.
He took Caroline’s arm gently. She drew him close, and he sternly told himself that made good sense, the better to guide him past any obstacles. He refused to linger on her perfume (violets) or the fact that her forearm was slim but strong under the crepe de chine.
They walked on, Caroline leading with firm confidence, murmuring the occasional warning when it seemed he was veering too close to a wall. Soon, however, Aubrey was lost in the magical radiance about him. At times, he had the impression of layers, hinting at the expanses that lay beyond the nearer walls. This double-sense was unsettling at first, experiencing the magical world so pressing, smouldering with subdued power, while other senses reported the real world. He heard the footfalls of his friends, their breathing.
Gradually, he was able to sense differences in the magic. Mostly, the walls, floors and ceilings were a dim red, almost brown. But sometimes patches of wall glowed more urgently, a brighter red, almost shading into orange. He stopped at one of these and placed his palm on it to test his judgement. He felt a tingling on his skin that confirmed his growing feeling that when the phantom colours were brighter, the magic was more intense.
Gradually, the changes in field intensity began to resolve themselves. Aubrey was sure he was looking at interlocking pieces, as if the whole place were a gigantic, shifting puzzle, one of those wooden ones where the configuration could be changed – with the right will and the right intent.
‘On and on it goes,’ von Stralick muttered. ‘A lack of imagination is present here, I fear.’
‘A lack of imagination, perhaps,’ Caroline said, ‘but not a lack of determination. I think we’re being followed.’
Aubrey winced. ‘Sylvia?’
‘I imagine so,’ Caroline said.
‘If it’s not her,’ George said, ‘I don’t think I want to find out who it is.’
‘What could she want?’ von Stralick said.
‘She might be wondering where her new exhibits have gone,’ Aubrey said. ‘She might want them back.’
‘Back in her terrarium?’ George said. ‘I’m not enchanted with that prospect. How far have we got to go?’
‘It goes on forever,’ von Stralick said.
‘Not forever,’ Aubrey said. ‘This way.’
According to his sensing, they’d turned three left-hand corners and crossed four intersections. Each time, he’d briefly opened his eyes and found that the real world did not mirror his magical senses.
Nevertheless, he was sure they were headed in the right direction. The background glowing was increasing in intensity and the walls were now a dark cherry-red, with highlights of orange and yellow where a corner or intersection appeared.
He noted that each corner was in the same direction. When faced with a choice of direction, the increasing intensity was always to the left, even if his friends didn’t notice it.
And he was sure they were going inward.
This impression was nothing to do with his magical awareness. It was a suspicion, nothing more. Were his feet, his calves telling him that the floor was sloping? Was the floor subtly grading downward? If so, with the left-hand turns that were coming more frequently, did that mean they were spiralling inward?
To the heart of the place?
He only realised that he had tensed his grip when Caroline spoke. ‘Is something wrong?’ He admired her self-possession. She had no trace of alarm or even tension in her voice. If there was something wrong, she was looking to do something about it rather than to panic.
‘We may be getting nearer to our goal,’ he said. They reached a three-way intersection. Aubrey led them to the left-hand branch.
‘Good. You have a spell ready?’
Aubrey nodded. ‘Just in case.’
‘We may not need it. But better to have something ready and not use it than to need something and not have it available.’
Good sense, Aubrey thought. But then again, Caroline was nothing if not sensible.
He did enjoy it, though, when she wasn’t. The sensible, dutiful Caroline often overwhelmed the carefree, cheeky Caroline, the one that was only seen in glimpses. But he couldn’t quibble. Duty tended to rule his life as well. With such prominent parents, with such expectations from society, what choice did he have?
It could be worse. They took another left-hand turn. I could be Bertie. Now there’s someone where duty comes first, middle and last.
Aubrey absently took another left-hand turn while he pondered the thorny issue of duty and individual dreams. This meant that he didn’t notice the blazing wall of magic until Caroline nudged him.
‘Aubrey. What are we going to do?’
He lifted his head, eyes still closed, and gasped. ‘Good Lord!’ Automatically, he flung up a hand to protect himself.
Their path was blocked by a burning wall of fire – at least, that’s what it looked like to his magical pseudosight. Bright orange-white, it seared, a crackling, potent magic barrier.