'We are exiles,' Brandt said. 'We take care of our own, and such requires organising. We meet, we discuss, we do what we can.'
'Do you discuss going back to Holmland?' Aubrey asked.
Brandt nodded. 'Of course. Delightful though your country is, we are not here by choice. We were in danger if we stayed and in danger if we go back now. Troublesome opponents of the Chancellor have a habit of disappearing.'
'But you must have plans.'
'Plans? He who does not plan lives half a life. We would love for the corrupt regime in our beloved Holmland to come crashing down. If we can help that happen, it is good. How to do it is the question.'
'You must be in communication with those still there,' Caroline said.
'Of course. Carefully.' Brandt shook his head. 'The Chancellor and his government cronies are popular. They build ships, they have parades, birthday parties for the Elektor. There is little support for our cause.'
'There is always an opposition to a government,' Aubrey said. 'What about them?'
'Tame rabbits. Powerless. Equally corrupt.'
Standing at the lectern in front of the small audience, Bloch broke off and waved. 'Brandt,' he called in Holmlandish. 'Leyden here says that his cousin in the navy has been approached by the Circle.' Then he saw Aubrey and scowled.
Brandt shook a finger at Bloch. 'Mr Fitzwilliam is a trusted friend. You can talk in front of him.'
But before Bloch could continue, Madame Albers laughed. 'The Circle. When are they going to do something to match their big talk?'
'Talk?' Brandt said. 'Talk? The Circle is our best hope of return. The offers they've made, the people . . .'
'Many promises, little action,' Madame Albers said. 'We need more than words.'
Bloch glanced at Aubrey for a moment. 'Words are powerful. Look at the Chancellor's new adviser. When he speaks, everyone in the government listens.'
'This Dr Tremaine?' Brandt said, and Aubrey was suddenly much more interested in what had seemed like an argument over petty rivalries. 'Do you really think he has that much influence?'
'He's a persuasive man,' Aubrey put in and they all stared. He shrugged. 'I've had some dealings with him.'
'Your insights may prove useful,' Brandt said, then he turned back to his compatriots and soon they were deep in discussion about the best ways to return to Holmland.
Aubrey only half-listened. The revelation that Dr Tremaine had expanded his influence from the Holmland espionage wing to the government itself was terrifying. Aubrey didn't want that man close to the highest decision-makers in any country – let alone warlike Holmland.
Aubrey looked up. He had the oddest sensation – as if reality had suddenly creaked at the seams, shifting uneasily before settling again.
'What was that?' he asked Caroline.
'What was what?'
'Nothing. Probably nothing.'
He couldn't shake it off. A curious double feeling took hold of him, one sensation overlaid on another, and he realised he was detecting magic – but he couldn't define it. It was fractured and indistinct.
The meeting broke up. People moved past, nodding to Brandt as they went. All of them glanced curiously at Aubrey and Caroline.
'Ach,' Bloch said. His voice echoed in the nearly empty hall. 'Someone has left a bag.'
'No.' Aubrey grabbed Brandt's shoulder. 'No!' he shouted, but it was too late.
The hall blew apart.
Eleven
AUBREY WAS ON HIS BACK, HIS HEAD RINGING. HIS cheek hurt. Blurrily, he realised that he was looking at the sky. Boiling upward like a geyser from hell was a whirling mass of black cloud. Lightning shot from it, jagged bolts that hurt the eye, lancing left, right, up and down with manic glee.
Weather magic, Aubrey thought as dozens of individual aches and pains jostled for his attention. What fool would mess about with weather magic?
Aubrey had, once, and he'd learned the hard way the First Law of Weather Magic: localised weather changes have effects that can't be predicted. This was why weather magic was discouraged. A simple spell to stop rain falling on a picnic could end up with a massive drought half a continent away. Aubrey had a suspicion that some inherent disorder was at work in most natural processes. When he had some time, he intended to investigate this.
The pocket thunderstorm flattened overhead, as if it had run against an invisible ceiling. It swirled angrily, then gradually dissipated.
He lay there a moment and felt the heart-scurry of panic. His soul. Had it been jolted free again?
Then, a greater fear swamped this one. Where was Caroline?
He climbed to his feet, hurting all over, and faced utter devastation. The hall had been shredded by the thunderstorm. The walls had been flattened, apart from a few splintered uprights. Broken timber was strewn about, as if a giant had been playing pick-up-sticks. The brickwork nearby was studded with shards of wood that had struck hard enough to embed themselves.
Caroline stumbled from behind a pile of debris and Aubrey began breathing again. That instant, when she reappeared, defined what she meant to him. His condition, his hurts, his existence were secondary. His greatest concern was her wellbeing.
His chest ached, but he limped toward her. She sagged to her knees and he nearly cried aloud. She saw him approaching, gathered herself and stood. 'I'm all right.' She frowned. 'My hat's gone.'
Aubrey put a hand on her shoulder and inspected her. He sent a prayer heavenwards when he saw that she was untouched. 'You were lucky.'
His heart began to slow and he took a series of long, slow breaths to steady himself. He took a moment and used his magical senses to inspect his condition.
His body and soul were still united. His recent lack of magical exertion had apparently made his state more robust and he was well pleased.
So intense had been his focus on Caroline and his own condition that it took Aubrey some time to hear the groans. 'Over there.' Caroline pointed.
It was Count Brandt. He'd been thrown ten yards by the sudden thunderstorm and had slammed against a brick wall. He was sitting, splay-legged, amid shards of glass from the empty window above him. Aubrey hurried to his side only to discover that the Holmlander was unconscious.
'He's breathing,' Caroline said. 'Only a few small cuts. There's not much else we can do.'
Carefully, as shouts and cries for help rose from the streets nearby, they picked their way through the remnants of the hall. The floor was intact, if buckled in a few areas. The thunderstorm had obviously appeared and expanded both horizontally and vertically. Aubrey noticed part of his mind cataloguing details, knowing that immediate first impressions from a trained observer could be crucial in any investigation. His magical experience would be useful in documenting what had been, without doubt, a magical attack. Craddock would want to know everything.
'Here, Aubrey!' Caroline was crouched next to the stump of what must have been one of the main uprights of the hall. It was a massive piece of timber, but it had been snapped off as if it were a straw.