‘Tremaine?’ George said. ‘Why on earth would he be here?’
‘His sister’s soul fragment,’ Aubrey said. ‘He may have sensed it.’ Von Stralick nodded.
‘Good,’ Caroline said. ‘If Tremaine is down there, we have him.’
It was George who put into words what Aubrey was thinking. ‘Not wanting to put too fine a point on it, but are we ready to take him now?’
‘I have a revolver,’ Caroline said.
Aubrey raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you always armed?’
‘I make sure of it whenever I go out with you, Aubrey.’
Aubrey began several answers, but before he could come up with anything intelligible, von Stralick chipped in. ‘I, too, am armed.’ He patted his left breast.
‘I’m starting to feel a bit left out,’ George said. ‘I don’t suppose a clear mind and a pure heart count for much?’
‘Against Dr Tremaine?’ Aubrey said. ‘I don’t think so. And I’m not sure how much use firearms are against him, either.’ He remembered the encounter Caroline, George and he had had with Dr Tremaine in the vaults of the Bank of Albion. Caroline had shot at him from a distance of no more than ten paces, but he had escaped unharmed.
Aubrey listened with half a mind as Caroline, George and von Stralick argued about the efficacy of various weapons, while Fromm looked on with amusement. Aubrey’s other half mind was busy rattling through spells to use if it came to a confrontation with Dr Tremaine, and sorting through the items he’d stowed in his appurtenances vest.
‘All I have are some nuisance spells,’ he announced finally. ‘If I had more time, I may be able to construct something useful.’
‘We should strike now.’ Caroline’s eyes were flat and hard.
Aubrey could see disaster rolling their way like barrels down a ramp. He knew that if he tried to argue her out of confronting Dr Tremaine, he’d lose. She’d simply ignore him and go her own way. It was time for an outflanking manoeuvre.
‘We can’t just barge in on him,’ Aubrey said. ‘We have to scout the terrain, see what’s going on.’
Caroline gazed at him for a moment. Then she nodded. ‘Very well.’
Aubrey lay on his stomach, unmindful of the effect the leaf mould and dirt was having on the fine wool of his jacket and trousers. Inch by inch, he wormed his way through the untended greenery.
After scrambling over the wall and finding themselves in a garden that had gone wild, he’d managed to persuade the others that he should go on ahead, by the simple expedient of demonstrating his spell-assisted belly crawl.
Ever since the adventure in Lutetia, where – in a moment of manic invention – he’d levitated a whole medieval tower and sent it sailing across the rooftops of the Gallian capital, he’d worked, sporadically, on refining the weight-cancelling spell that had enabled this dramatic mode of locomotion. He’d had the notion of writing a paper on the subject for the Albion Journal of Magic, but he’d wanted to sort out all the derivatives and variations first. Publication in a prestigious journal like the AJM meant he’d be on display, subject to scrutiny, and to criticism, from some of the best magical minds in the world, so he wanted to make sure he had everything correct.
All in all, it was a pleasure to be fiddling with minor, very practical applications of the spell he’d been working with so closely. In this instance, he was simply easing his weight a little so he wouldn’t make a sound on the dry leaves underfoot. Or underbelly. It worked, and he fancied he slithered like a particularly deft snake.
Ahead, closer to the site of the ruined house, he could hear at least one person. They made little effort to hide their presence – just like Tremaine, he thought – and he lay there trying to sort out the tramping. One person or two? Or was it three?
He edged forward, keeping his head down, and parted a heavy, but thankfully thornless, bush.
Just in time to see an old man claw at the air and disappear into nothingness.
Horrified, Aubrey scrambled to his feet and shouted for the others, just as another stranger climbed out of the charred beams and rubble of the ruined house.
‘Mr Black!’ she cried.
Caroline burst through the foliage. She’d changed into her black silk fighting suit and she had her revolver at the ready. ‘Aubrey!’
George was hot on her heels. ‘Old man?’
Von Stralick and Fromm were more cautious. They pushed aside branches and edged through the greenery, then stood eyeing the woman who had climbed from the ruins. Her face was smeared with black and she was wearing riding trousers under a black leather coat. ‘Do not go over there!’ she called.
George froze, to the extent of having one foot in the air. ‘Over where?’
‘There.’ Aubrey pointed to a spot halfway down the side of the ruin, about four or five yards from what would have been a wall. ‘Where the old man disappeared.’
‘Merikanto,’ the woman whispered. She held onto an upright beam, careless of the charred timber. ‘He was trying to stop it.’
‘Madame Zelinka?’ Aubrey said. ‘What’s going on? Where’s Dr Tremaine?’
‘Tremaine?’ Madame Zelinka looked around in horror. ‘Is he here?’
‘Apparently not,’ Caroline said. She stood with her hands on her hips. ‘Aubrey, are you going to introduce us to your friend?’
Von Stralick grinned at Aubrey. ‘Do, Fitzwilliam. Be a gentleman.’
Aubrey sighed and did the formalities, finishing with, ‘And you know George Doyle. I mean, Mr Evans.’
Madame Zelinka was pale and shaken, but she gathered herself. ‘He has two names? As do you? Which is it, Black or Fitzwilliam?’ She looked exhausted. ‘Who are you?’
‘Good question,’ Aubrey said. He spun his story carousel, looking for a solution to the sticky situation he’d dropped himself in. Perhaps he could invent another persona, one that was pretending to be two different people because of an identity stealing spell...
Caroline elbowed him. ‘Simple would be better, I believe.’
He swallowed, and told Madame Zelinka the truth.
In the end, it was a relief. Madame Zelinka listened carefully. Aubrey was sure she would become angry at his deception, but she simply nodded. ‘You were good, Fitzwilliam. And you, Doyle. You had me convinced.’
‘Later for this,’ von Stralick said. ‘What about this old man that you say disappeared? Are we in danger?’
She touched her forehead. ‘Merikanto.’
‘What was he doing?’ Aubrey asked.
‘He was trying to quell the disruption that Tremaine left behind.’ She trembled. ‘It reached out from the basement and took him.’
‘He’s in pieces, now,’ Fromm said. He spat on the ground. ‘Like dropping a glass on a stone floor. Shattered, he is, and blown to the winds. Fromm felt him go.’
Madame Zelinka stood in the ruins and her equanimity crumbled. She began to cry, tried to stop it, but then was seized by her distress.
Automatically, they all went to her. They had to pick their way through the ruins, crunching through ash and burned wood, stepping carefully over tumbled-down stones. Aubrey felt glass crushing underfoot and noted the bright frozen rivulets where lead from the roof had melted and run.
Caroline put an arm around the distraught woman while von Stralick and George looked on helplessly. Fromm sidled to Aubrey. ‘She’s here, you know.’
‘Sylvia?’
‘She retreated when the old man was broken apart. But she’s here.’
‘What about this disturbance Madame Zelinka is talking about?’
Fromm snorted. ‘Her crew are always finding problems. They are troublemakers.’