Kiefer’s announcement had caused such an uproar that the symposium had been abandoned. While Prince Albert was ushered out safely, pandemonium ruled. Academics and analysts gathered and argued about the political implications of the revelation, diplomats hurried out to spread the news, curious guests surged about trying to glimpse the young man who could soon be the ruler of two countries. Within an hour, the only people left were trade exhibitors, who were glumly packing up their displays and counting the costs of the lost opportunities.
Fisherberg exploded with gossip and speculation. In packed coffee houses and tense meeting rooms, Albion’s ambitions were dissected, international treaties discussed, and plans were redrawn.
The Albion Embassy was besieged. Prying journalists, countless petitioners and the simply inquisitive had trapped Prince Albert, Lady Rose, Aubrey and the others for days – time which Aubrey used to probe what had happened when the chaotic magic interacted with the Beccaria Cage. The way that it had fused his body and soul together was baffling, but it showed no signs of deteriorating. The events of the Fisherberg trip had been mixed in their outcome, but this looked as if it was undeniably positive.
He really was cured.
They found a ladder and went below to the next deck. He peered over the rail to see a large group of able seamen grappling with a large crate. In the days of chaos after Otto Kiefer’s speech, Ambassador Hollows had done well to organise the payment and shipment of the golem maker to the Invulnerable. Craddock was below, supervising the loading of the crate onto the same launch that had brought Sir Darius. Aubrey was sure the arcane machinery would be whisked into the lowest reaches of the Darnleigh Buildings, home of what used to be the Magisterium. He could imagine magicians in the employ of the military rubbing their hands in anticipation, ready to deconstruct it.
Before leaving Fisherberg, Aubrey caught up with an angry Hugo von Stralick. Betrayed and bitter, von Stralick dropped a number of broad hints that made Aubrey very suspicious about the origin of the golem-making machinery. Aubrey was keen to examine the apparatus itself to see if he could find anything to connect it to a certain Holmland industrialist. If they were, the events in Holmland were even more complex than they seemed. Baron von Grolman was a player who needed further analysis.
Seeing Craddock reminded Aubrey that he hadn’t questioned him about how he knew Madame Zelinka. Since the symposium, he’d learned that Craddock and Tallis had indeed caught an emergency dirigible flight to Fisherberg as soon as news had made its way back to Albion about the plot to replace Prince Albert, but they’d barely spoken to Aubrey – apart from insisting on his compiling a detailed report. Their attention was on ensuring that the Prince – and Lady Rose – were safely escorted from Holmland.
Tallis was waiting for Aubrey and George on the deck below. He was standing, arms behind his back, eyeing the sea with the suspicion of the true land dweller. ‘Thomson the bookseller,’ he said without any preliminaries. ‘Hollows sent your report on to my department.’ He scowled. ‘We’ve investigated further. You may be right.’
‘You’ve taken him into custody?’
Tallis turned away from the sea. He smiled. ‘Hardly.’
‘He’s given you the slip?’ George shook his head. ‘Cunning chaps, those booksellers.’
‘We’ll keep a good eye on him,’ Tallis said, ignoring George, ‘and use him to feed false information to his masters. It may prove invaluable.’
‘And Stafford Bruce?’
‘He was mortified,’ Tallis said. ‘Resigned immediately. The Opposition is disarray. Some analysts in Foreign Affairs are saying that this could have been the actual plan in the first place.’
Aubrey saw the shifting movements of international intrigue all over again, the shadows under the surface of the sunny world. Complex, tortured, tangled, the unseen armies already at war.
They met the others in what had been the officers’ dining room but had, out of necessity, become a debriefing room. The room itself was well lit, with many ports allowing light in from the outside, and it was surprisingly well appointed. A number of round tables with heavy, starched tablecloths were surrounded by heavy-based chairs that swivelled – a sensible arrangement for heavy weather.
Caroline and Lady Rose were already there. Caroline waved to him as he entered and Aubrey’s heart was hers. He wasn’t sure if she knew it, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if she did. She was anything but unperceptive. If she chose not to acknowledge it, Aubrey had decided, it must be her sense of responsibility again, laying as heavily on her as his did on him. She was determined to pursue her studies, her career and her wider ambitions in the world. Aubrey had had the tantalising hint from her that politics was something that she was thinking of. And then there was this adventuring, which she had thrown herself into in a way that only increased her appeal to him – if that were possible.
With such aspirations, Caroline’s firm view that single-mindedness of outlook was paramount meant that any personal dalliances were seen as unnecessary uses of time. The optimum route to success called for dedication and couldn’t countenance anything frivolous.
But had he detected some thawing in Caroline’s attitude? He was aware of how easy it was to misinterpret such things. Acutely aware. He swallowed at the multitude of memories that presented themselves, evidence of his inability in this area. They made him hesitant to conclude anything, but could there be some hope?
He greeted Caroline and his mother, then sat next to Caroline. She didn’t object, and even patted his elbow absently as she craned her lovely neck to look toward where the captain was entering via another door.
I can always hope, Aubrey thought and vowed to be content with this.
Sir Darius strode into the room. Immediately, he found his wife and crossed to her side.
Aubrey had grown accustomed to warm displays of affection between his parents. It set them apart in a society where decorum was the norm and Aubrey loved them for it. The genuine feeling that had brought them together was as strong as ever, unaffected by the censorious eyes of the world.
Lady Rose stood. Sir Darius swept his wife into his arms and held her tightly. She put her head on his shoulders and closed her eyes. They said nothing.
Having seen this before, Aubrey discreetly watched Caroline. She smiled at Sir Darius and Lady Rose. Aubrey thought her smile was wistful, and the way she rested her hand on her cheek added to the contemplative cast of her face. Or did it? Perhaps she was simply tired. Or thinking of something else.
I have no idea, Aubrey admitted to himself, and he sighed.
‘Something wrong, Aubrey?’ Caroline asked.
‘Apart from Gallia questioning their alliance with us and thereby providing an opportunity for Holmland to start aggression?’
‘No need to be so testy.’ She patted his arm again. ‘You did well.’
Aubrey had never had fireworks go off inside his skull, but he imagined that this is what it would feel like. ‘I did?’
‘You did, old man.’ George leaned across the table. ‘Don’t you think that Dr Tremaine would have actually taken the Prince, even if that wasn’t his main aim for the symposium?’
Lady Rose smiled. ‘Aubrey, dear boy. You can be hard on yourself. Take some pride in what you’ve achieved.’
Aubrey sat back, surprised. Ever since their precipitous departure from Fisherberg, he’d been kicking himself for not anticipating Dr Tremaine’s plot within a plot within a plot. Even now, warming to the praise, he wondered if he’d missed a plot or two.