‘Not unless you want to suffer the consequences, as Holmland currently is.’
Aubrey was alert. ‘Holmland is suffering? It doesn’t seem so. It appears prosperous enough.’
‘One mess that Tremaine left behind has been causing harm.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It has spawned a magical field that is disrupting souls.’
Aubrey rocked back. He felt as if he were in a boxing ring with multiple opponents – blows were coming from all directions.
‘Ghosts,’ he said. ‘And ghost hunters.’
‘You’ve seen them?’ Madame Zelinka grimaced. ‘Holmlanders are having their souls splintered, and the ghost hunters have sensed this. They are drawn to the disruption like moths to a flame.’
‘We bumped into a few,’ George said. ‘Scruffy types.’
Madame Zelinka nodded. ‘Dr Tremaine cast a spell earlier this year, a powerful spell – something to do with Urbomancy – and the residue has festered, breeding on itself and on the remains of other spells Dr Tremaine has cast. It has become a source of disruption, shattering troubled souls and casting off what – to some appearances – are ghosts.’
‘And where is all this magical mess lying about?’ George asked, giving Aubrey some time to think. ‘Surely Tremaine would notice it, especially if it was festering away as you say.’
‘It was in a house, north of the city, where he stayed when he first arrived in Holmland. A few days after he cast his spell, the place went up in flames. He has enemies.’
‘And a good sense of when not to be home, I’ll warrant,’ George said. ‘He wasn’t harmed?’
‘No. But the place was ruined and he hasn’t returned. He lives in the city now. Near the Assembly Building.’
‘Of course.’ Aubrey scratched his chin, thought it didn’t look dignified enough, and dropped his hand. ‘So you need the magical suppressors to assist you in quelling this magical outbreak? This disruption?’
‘We’ve had several of our people track down the source of the disturbance. They’re frightened by what they’ve found.’
‘Frightened?’ George said. ‘That doesn’t sound good. Frightened of what?’
‘We’re not sure. The last of my colleagues to report from the place died before he could give us any details. We’ve interdicted the area.’
‘The ghost spawning grounds,’ George muttered, glancing at Aubrey.
‘Spawning grounds? A good description.’ She stood. ‘Now. I must leave, so you must go. I fear I have remained in one place for too long, but as you can see, we need your machines.’
‘You’re in danger?’
Her smile was wry, and not without humour. Aubrey found himself liking the brisk, detached woman. ‘Who isn’t in danger in Fisherberg? And ever since we’ve become involved with your Dr Tremaine, danger seems to come our way more often...’
When they left, Madame Zelinka was packing. Aubrey was silent all the way down in the lift as he tried to put this new information into perspective and he tapped the Beccaria Cage meditatively, which was beginning to become a habit. While a mysterious order of itinerant, altruistic magicians was useful to know about, more important was the havoc Dr Tremaine was wreaking. Was he aware of this? And where would it lead?
Evening was falling. The embassy was full of lights by the time they were admitted by the guards and Aubrey was grateful for the warm cheeriness of the place, but was surprised when Hollows, the ambassador, caught them just inside the entrance hall.
‘Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.’
‘Out, sir,’ Aubrey said, automatically keeping his cards close to his chest.
‘Yes, yes, that’s what von Stralick said.’ The ambassador looked up the stairs. Aubrey thought the man looked flustered. ‘We have visitors. Unexpected visitors.’
‘Ah. I had hoped Miss Hepworth would present herself. Has she brought her mother?’
‘No. I mean yes, they’re here, but that’s not who I meant.’ He glanced toward the stairs again. ‘Prince Albert has arrived early.’
Twenty
In what was delightfully called The Swan Room, a large west-facing drawing room, Aubrey and George found not only Prince Albert, Caroline and Mrs Hepworth, but Lady Rose. All were speaking at once and nobody noticed when Aubrey and George slipped in.
Quentin Hollows looked harried and Aubrey felt for the man. Having the heir to the Albion throne arrive a week ahead of schedule was enough to try anyone. Hollows was in charge of the embassy, this little patch of Albion, and it was his duty as a host and as a diplomat to take care of his future king.
The room was a long and narrow space broken by three square marble pillars, and decorated entirely in black and white. The walls were papered in dramatic stripes, while the floor was carpeted in dizzying black-and-white squares. The furniture was ebony, angular chairs and tables.
Aubrey wasn’t surprised when his mother beckoned to them, then made her way to meet them at the door. ‘Caroline and her mother both seem well disposed to you, Aubrey, for which I suppose I should be grateful.’
‘It means I haven’t done anything foolish,’ Aubrey said. ‘More foolish than usual,’ he added.
‘Caroline and you seemed to have worked out some sort of arrangement.’
It wasn’t a question, but it was definitely an invitation for further comment.
‘We have. All’s well.’
His mother studied him closely for a moment. ‘I’m not so sure about that, but let it rest for now.’ She smiled. ‘Hello, George. Aubrey hasn’t brought down the Albion Empire yet, has he?’
George responded gallantly, Aubrey decided, if one ignored the flaming blush that sprang to his cheeks. ‘No, Lady Rose. Not today.’
‘What a superb answer,’ she said with a quick smile. ‘He’s lucky to have you as a friend.’
George’s blush deepened, he coughed, looked away, tried to speak, and then took out a handkerchief to blow his nose. Aubrey loved his mother for the way she ignored all of this. She glanced over her shoulder to where Caroline, Mrs Hepworth and Prince Albert were chatting. ‘Well, we have a knotty situation on our hands here, don’t we?’ she said to Aubrey. ‘That’s why poor Hollows is looking so distracted, I imagine. A week earlier in Holmland? A week extra in the worst possible place for the heir to the throne of Albion?’
‘Bertie’s convinced he can do something to avert the war,’ Aubrey said softly.
‘And can he?’ his mother asked.
Aubrey studied the Prince. Habitually serious, he was smiling in a perplexed manner at something Caroline was telling him. ‘He’ll certainly do his best. The Elektor will listen to him, that’s certain. But whether the Elektor will be convinced, and whether the Elektor can do anything.’ He sighed. ‘Well, that’s another matter.’
The Prince looked in their direction and immediately rose to his feet. He crossed the floor. ‘Aubrey! George! I was beginning to think that you’d gone off to sample the delights of Fisherberg without me.’
He shook their hands in turn. ‘Your highness,’ Aubrey said. ‘We’ve been busy.’
Prince Albert turned to Caroline, who – with her mother – had followed. ‘I always begin to worry when Aubrey says that. It hides a multitude of sins.’
‘Sins?’ Caroline offered her hand to Aubrey. ‘I’m not sure about sins, but in Aubrey’s hands, a polite phrase certainly becomes an tool of subterfuge.’
‘Caroline. It’s good to see you, too.’
And it was. After only a short period of not seeing her, Aubrey couldn’t deny how his heart beat faster in her presence, how his eye tended to linger on her, how he was acutely aware of her words, her attitudes, her nuances, and – more importantly, perhaps – how eagerly he wanted her to think well of him.
She had had her hair done, he was sure, lifted a little higher at the back. It seemed, too, that she and her mother had stopped in Lutetia on the way over, for she was wearing a new outfit that was undeniably Gallian. A jacket and skirt ensemble of some kind, in a deep, arresting blue.