Word of Honour

'Aubrey.' Jack nudged him. 'Are you all right?'

Aubrey blinked. 'I'm fine, Jack. Just impressed.' Dozens of candles gleamed. The air still smelled damp, years after the last hydraulic capsule had come to rest.

The platform was in the outer of the double tunnel – Beauchamp's brilliant idea. It was essentially a long walkway, a concourse, with doors that opened onto the inner tunnel, the water-filled one where the capsules ran. Aubrey counted twelve black openings in the long, convex tiled wall, and imagined passengers filing through, stepping into the capsules that were ready to surge to the next station.

It was a grand idea and a grand failure. Nevertheless, Aubrey admired Beauchamp for the audaciousness of his vision.

The platform had never looked like this when Beauchamp was in control, Aubrey decided. An assortment of battered furniture, most likely rescued from rubbish heaps, had found its way down to the depths, to give the place the appearance of a long, narrow parlour, albeit one decorated with a complete lack of consistency or taste.

Candles and the occasional lantern were propped up on tables; lamp stands, bookcases, kitchen dressers, ironing boards and other spliced-together pieces of furniture made the place look like a particularly jumbled jumble sale. Aubrey thought he saw a tall construction that was part pulpit, part dog kennel.

He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. The tingle of magic brushed him; it was distant, low-level, but intriguing. He wondered if Beauchamp had used magic in his construction and he immediately had an urge to explore, but Jack had moved on.

Jack marched along the concourse, past figures reclining on hessian bags, swathes of tattered fabric that still had curtain rings attached, piles of clothing too ragged to be worn. The faces that stared up at them were curious, guarded, grubby and young.

None of them older than ten, I'll warrant, Aubrey thought as he followed Jack.

'No parents,' Jack muttered as they approached a large dining table. A paraffin lamp stood at one end, while three children sat, solemnly, like a panel of high court judges.

'None of them?'

'No. They're lucky to have each other. I help when I can. Now,' he said. 'Hello, Maggie. This is Aubrey Fitzwilliam.'

Aubrey couldn't judge how old Maggie was. Fourteen? Fifteen? He settled for young, even though she was clearly older than anyone else in the disused station. She studied him carefully and he assumed it was her customary approach, something she would have learned on the streets. She had long black hair, in a single plait. She wore a green dress and yellow cardigan. Both were threadbare, but they were clean, as was her face. She stood and offered Aubrey a hand, which was also clean. 'Mr Fitzwilliam. Thanks for the work you've sent our way in the past.'

The two boys either side of Maggie were tall, strong looking, and didn't say a word. She glanced at the one on her right and in an instant he was fetching chairs for Aubrey and Jack.

'How's things, Maggie?' Jack asked.

'Well enough, thank you, Jack. We haven't lost anyone lately.'

'Lost anyone?' Aubrey said. Old before her time was the phrase that echoed in Aubrey's mind, but in Maggie's case it had little of the sadness it usually carried. Her gaze was direct, her speech was measured and careful.

'No-one looks out for us, you understand, Mr Fitzwilliam. Living this way, we have a habit of disappearing, one way or another. The Crew look after each other, where we can.'

'Safety in numbers.'

'You might say that. This is our home. We have food, a bit of money. It's better than what we'd have otherwise.' She looked troubled. 'Apart from the stinks.'

'Stinks?' Jack said.

'From the tunnel. Doesn't happen all the time, but rotten smells come out of it. Didn't used to.'

Aubrey looked at the gaps in the tunnel walls. They were holes into space.

'Business is thriving, I hope,' Jack said.

'You should know, Jack,' she said primly. 'You send most of it to us.'

She glanced at Aubrey. 'You were expecting someone older, weren't you?'

'Perhaps. I didn't know what to expect, really.'

'I am the oldest, you know.' She gestured at the two or three dozen who were watching the discussion with varied levels of interest.

'And she has the best head among them,' Jack said. 'She keeps a ledger, even.'

'I learned some figures, some reading,' she said. 'Before Ma and Pa died.'

'It was TB,' Jack said softly. 'Your clinic helped, Aubrey, but it couldn't save them. Maggie has no other relatives.'

'There was just me,' she said, 'so I decided to do what I could.'

'She started the Crew,' Jack said. 'Just a few, like her, in the beginning.'

'Now we have more than we can take on,' Maggie said. 'That's no good.'

'She's tough with them, too. They have to do lessons a few days a week. She won't have any stealing.'

'I won't abide thieving,' she said. 'It's the road to ruin.'

'I'm impressed,' Aubrey said. 'And I'd like to do more business with you.'

'Very good. What do you need? Errand runners? Delivery boys? Dog walkers?'

'Watchers.'

Aubrey outlined his plan. Maggie listened carefully, asking questions, adding suggestions along the way. Jack sat back, arms crossed, pleased at how his protégé was managing.

'Done,' Maggie said finally. The boy on her left produced a large, leather-bound book. She opened it and whipped out a pencil. The boy on her right moved a candle closer. 'Around the clock watching of one Mr Spinetti, the singer, for one month,' she said slowly as she wrote.

Aubrey had initially thought two weeks would be sufficient, but had found himself persuaded to take on a month. 'That's it. With daily reports.'

'Daily reports,' Maggie repeated, writing this down.

'We'll get letters to you, all right?'

'Excellent.'

'Half now, half when we're done.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'You pay half our fee now, straightaway. At the end of the month, we get the rest.'

Aubrey reached inside his jacket for his wallet, without much reluctance. 'If I'm satisfied with the quality of your work.'

'You will be.'

Maggie handed the cash over to the boy on her left. He counted it, laboriously, and nodded. Then he reached down and deposited the notes in a metal box.

'In the special place, Irwin,' Maggie said.

The boy nodded again. Then he looked at Aubrey and Jack.

'Don't worry about them,' Maggie said. 'Go, go.'

Irwin disappeared into the shadows at the far end of the platform, evidently to Maggie's satisfaction. 'Safe as houses,' she declared.

Aubrey cocked his head. The low-level, background magic he'd felt ever since he'd entered the tunnel had suddenly surged, peaking in a powerful upwelling that made his eyes widen. He tried to locate it, but the magic disappeared before he could tell which direction it came from.