Aubrey had time for one spell. Even though he could work his mouth properly, he doubted that Dr Tremaine or Rokeby-Taylor would allow him the luxury of a long, uninterrupted casting, so something short and useful would have to do.
His mind was awhirl with the possibilities, but what could he do to combat Dr Tremaine's power, face to face?
Then he realised he didn't have to meet him head-on. Dr Tremaine had embarked on a careful series of interlaced spells. His admonition to Rokeby-Taylor not to interrupt him wasn't just an artist's petulance, it was vital.
If one component of the spell matrix was incomplete, the whole program could fall apart.
All Aubrey had to do was break up his spell-casting, but interrupting someone with such a focus, such an iron will, was not going to be easy, however much magic Aubrey had at his disposal.
So he turned the problem around. Not magic, antimagic.
The Rashid Stone, the mysterious Roman fragment, his work on Ancient Languages, had all helped to refine his understanding of the basic nature of magic – and how language shaped it. Added to this, Rokeby-Taylor's magic suppressors showed that magic could be damped, neutralised. All he had to do was work out a way of achieving it here.
His mind seized on the rods inside the magic suppressors. They vibrated. If they generated magic that was equal to and opposite any magic performed in the area, everything would be effectively cancelled out – much as the sound-deadening magic that Aubrey had some experience of, back at Stonelea School.
Aubrey grasped at this fundamental application of the Law of Opposites. The difficulty was setting up the spell so it had duration – and that it also adapted to cancel out any magic within its range.
Feverishly, he plotted out the elements, the variables and the constants. Striving for potency, he reached back and used Sumerian, hoping that the primeval language would have the simplicity needed for such a weighty spell.
It was intricate. Aubrey had doubts about its effectiveness, and the variable for dimensionality seemed to be intimately linked with the intensity constant. It meant he couldn't cast it very far away – it was an extremely proximate, localised spell. He realised it explained the restricted field generated by the suppressors, and how carefully they had to be situated.
He could affect Dr Tremaine, but not the fountain of animating flame.
It was enough – he hoped. If he could interrupt Dr Tremaine, it should stop his careful spell-casting.
When he had it mapped in his mind, he ran through it twice, then began.
Immediately, he faced a struggle.
What he was doing was fundamentally inconsistent. He was casting a magical spell to negate magic. Each syllable resisted him. He had to force his mouth to make the correct shapes and spit them off his tongue. His split lip flared with sharp, lancing pain at each movement. Sweat sprang from his forehead and his jaw ached with the effort of speaking each element. They were heavy, dragging his lips downward so that he had to compensate in his delivery. He felt as if he were being strangled.
His throat started to close as the final term loomed. He dropped his chin as much as he could, hoping that gravity would help the term fall from his mouth.
It did; finally all he had left was his signature. It, too, was weighty, as if infected by the other parts of the spell, but he forced it out. He was done.
Dr Tremaine continued chanting.
Aubrey slumped against his metal bonds, oblivious of their cutting into him. He had no triumph to keep away the avalanche of fatigue that swept over him. No strength was left in his limbs. His head felt too heavy for his neck. He was defeated.
Then Dr Tremaine stopped chanting and whirled, eyes blazing. 'Magic suppression! Magic suppression! Do you know what you've done, Fitzwilliam?' He raged over the increasing noise of the flame. 'You've ruined everything!' He stormed to Aubrey and thrust his face close. He snarled, baring his teeth like a great beast. 'Wretched boy! You dare to interpose yourself in my plans?'
In a blur of motion, he slapped Aubrey across the face, once then again, backhanded. Aubrey's ears rang with the force of the blow.
Dr Tremaine glared at him, jaw clenched so tightly that the tendons stood out on his neck. He panted, sucking air in through his teeth. 'You've destroyed the spell.'
With difficulty, Aubrey lifted his head and smiled. 'If that means I've stopped you destroying Trinovant, that's good enough.'
Tremaine stared at him for a moment then threw back his head and laughed. 'That you may have, boy. But at the cost of your own life.' He studied Aubrey. 'In that case, you won't be needing this.'
With a fingernail, Dr Tremaine sheared through wire as if it were butter. He plucked Aubrey's watch from his pocket and held it up. The light from the cold fire made the Brayshire Ruby glitter like a red star.
Aubrey threw himself against his bonds, anger making him oblivious to the pain. He hissed, then locked eyes with his tormentor and their connection was re-established.
An instant lasted for an eternity, an instant where Aubrey knew Dr Tremaine. He knew his roaring confidence, his unbounded dreams, his utter selfishness. He also knew his sorrow and frustration at never being able to find his sister. A vision came to Aubrey of Sylvia, but it was ghostly, vague, a portrait seen by cloudy moonlight.
Above all, Dr Tremaine's self dominated the experience – raw, wild, untouched by anyone apart from his sister. He was more a primeval force than a human being – a storm, an earthquake, a volcano. Aubrey shuddered and shied away from such unalloyed power.
At the same time, Aubrey was aware that Dr Tremaine had touched him. He lay exposed – his ambitions were naked, his confidence and insecurities on display, his skill and talents up for measure.
Then it ended, a heartbeat where they were blended and aware of another human being as few are.
Aubrey was dazed. Numbly, he stared at Tremaine, who looked back thoughtfully, tapping his chin. 'My, my, my,' he said, and the sheer banality of this utterance brought Aubrey back to his senses.
He managed to make his mouth work again. He wanted to demand the heirloom back, but he refused to give Tremaine the pleasure. 'You're a petty thief as well as a failed traitor, Tremaine.'
Dr Tremaine shrugged. 'You have something precious of mine, Fitzwilliam. It's only fair that I have something of yours.' A bass rumble from the column of cold fire made the magician glance over his shoulder. 'I always say that a true genius knows when to abandon a plan and when to try to resurrect one. Now is the time to abandon this one, I fear.'
Aubrey couldn't help himself. 'You didn't say that.'
Dr Tremaine frowned. 'What?'
'That's one of Scholar Tan's axioms. You stole it and just pretended you made it up.'
Aubrey had fought hand-to-hand with Dr Tremaine. He'd engaged in a magical struggle with Dr Tremaine. But judging from the almost embarrassed scowl, this time he'd managed to slip right under his guard and pierce his pride. Hastily he chalked it up as a point to himself and steeled himself for Dr Tremaine's reaction.
The rogue magician ignored it. Pretending he hadn't heard Aubrey, he went to make his exit.