Word of Honour

Aubrey waited for George, who was hurrying down from upstairs. 'The magic can only achieve so much. It was George. He does a better Captain Tallis than I do.'

Aubrey didn't want to tell his father that the less magic he did at the moment, the better. His condition had been particularly unstable and magic made things worse.

'I see,' his father said. 'You've been practising imitating Captain Tallis, have you?'

'As research,' Aubrey said quickly. 'An exercise. The Law of Similarities means that it's easier to work up a spell to alter George's voice into Captain Tallis's than mine. He has a deeper timbre, and I believe Tallis spent some time in the country in his youth.'

'Country lads, both of us,' George beamed. 'Must ask him about pigs, one day.'

'I'd like to discuss this further,' Sir Darius said, 'but we must be off. I don't want to lose the opportunity.'

'One thing,' Aubrey said. 'How are you going to deal with the upshot of this little deception? Won't Tallis be furious?'

'It doesn't take much to make Tallis furious, but I take your point.' Sir Darius thought for a moment. 'This is a test,' he declared. 'A test of the capabilities of the Special Services. And it seems their methods need tightening up.'

Stubbs, the Fitzwilliam family driver, was idling the Oakleigh-Nash at the front door. The twelve-cylinder engine rumbled with the sleek power that only came from the best magically enhanced valves. 'Ormsby Square,' Sir Darius said when they'd flung the doors closed.

Stubbs accelerated smoothly and they were out of the gates into the traffic.

Sir Darius settled back into the accommodating leather seat; he gazed out of the window.

'Clive Rokeby-Taylor is joining us, isn't he?' Aubrey said suddenly.

Sir Darius turned to him. 'Your reasoning?'

'We're off to Clear Haven. Rokeby-Taylor has substantial shipbuilding concerns. And we're going to Ormsby Square, which isn't on the way to the ornithopter port. Exclusive area. Rokeby-Taylor is its most notorious inhabitant.'

'Notorious?'

'George often mentions his name when he's trawling through the gossip columns. Gambler, racing enthusiast, attractor of scandals.'

'Number seventeen is renowned for exotic parties,' George said. 'And Rokeby-Taylor is rarely seen without a famous actress or two on his arm. Different ones each time, of course. On different arms.'

'Hmm.' Sir Darius crossed his arms. 'Clive Rokeby-Taylor and I were at school together.'

This was news to Aubrey, but he wasn't surprised – there was much about the past of both his parents that was a mystery. Not deliberately so – it was just that they had led such varied lives that minor details like this often surfaced at unexpected times. 'At Stonelea?'

'We shared rooms in our last year, then we went on to university. St Alban's College, where you two are headed.'

'You've never mentioned him.'

'We lost touch. We've been at the same functions at the same time, but I haven't actually spoken to him for ten years. Ships that pass in the night and all that.'

'He's very successful,' George said. 'Shipbuilding, electricity generation, chemical manufacture.' He caught Aubrey's look. 'I do read more than the gossip pages, you know.'

'So we are meeting Rokeby-Taylor?' Aubrey said to his father.

'One of his firms has been working with the Navy Board on a top secret project. He's asked me to go with him to Clear Haven on some sort of demonstration jaunt.'

'A top secret jaunt?'

'Clive's word, not mine. And that sums him up. Life is a jaunt to him, which is why it comes as a surprise to find him engaged in such serious matters as defence contracting.' Sir Darius frowned. 'Even though he calls this expedition a jaunt, it is serious, because of our circumstances.'

'The war,' Aubrey said simply.

'The war that we hope and pray will not happen,' Sir Darius said.

'The war that seems inevitable,' George added.

Sir Darius sighed. 'Sadly, that seems to be the case. The situation on the continent continues to worsen. Holmland ambitions, border disputes in the Goltans . . . To call the continent a powder keg is rather underestimating affairs.'

'And how has Rokeby-Taylor come into this?' Aubrey asked.

'I authorised a special program, part of our efforts to update our fleet. This special program allocated funds for development of advanced units.'

'Magical units,' Aubrey guessed.

'Magical enhancement would be part of any innovative military development, most likely. This has been encouraged for some time, after all. Remember Banford Park?'

Aubrey nodded. Banford Park was the research facility near Prince Albert's country residence. Aubrey and George had had several scrapes there, and it was where Dr Mordecai Tremaine had taken Sir Darius after kidnapping him.

'Rokeby-Taylor's companies have participated in this program?'

'Apparently. Always good at sniffing out money, was Clive. I had no idea of his involvement until he telephoned late last week.'

Aubrey was silent for a moment. He caught George's eye and saw the puzzlement there that he felt himself. He considered a number of indirect approaches, but then decided a frontal sortie was best. 'Sir? It seems a little odd, the Prime Minister slipping off like this after a telephone call from an old friend he hasn't spoken to for a decade.'

Sir Darius grinned. 'It does, doesn't it?' He leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. 'To tell the truth, I simply needed to do something out of the ordinary. Prime Ministership can become rather staid, even in these times. Besides, I'd heard so much about Rokeby- Taylor over the years that once we spoke, my curiosity wouldn't leave me alone until we met again.'

Something else you've handed down to me, Aubrey thought. As a family heirloom, this curiosity was a mixed blessing. It often sent him in directions that others wouldn't have noticed, but at its worst it was almost a physical itch, an acute discomfort impossible to ignore.

This time, however, it was suspicion rather than curiosity that prodded him. 'Ten years, an old friend reappearing . . . what could be more natural than wanting to meet?'

'But you're not convinced?'

'Look for the reason behind the reason, you've always advised.'

Sir Darius nodded his approval and Aubrey felt a moment of deep satisfaction. 'Very impressive, Aubrey.' He sat back and steepled his hands. 'Would it interest you to know that the week before Rokeby-Taylor got in touch with me, both Craddock and Tallis have asked me about him?'

Tallis, Aubrey could understand. The Special Services had the responsibility for all clandestine affairs, espionage and intelligence gathering. The head of a major defence contractor would naturally be of interest to them. But Craddock? What would the Magisterium want with Rokeby-Taylor?

'Are his companies using magic at all?'

'Rokeby-Taylor has recently been hiring a number of outstandingly talented magicians.'