The Laws of Magic 6: Hour of Need (14 page)

‘Everyone?’ George said. ‘That’s ambitious.’

She threw him a smile. ‘The people, I mean. News from the front, this front, has been sparse. When we hurried through Lutetia the newspapers were full of news of the war, but the news of the Divodorum front was laughable. Rumours, gossip, nothing more.’

‘It must be hard to obtain reports from here,’ Aubrey pointed out. ‘Almost everyone has gone.’

‘I want to send the real story of what is happening here.’

‘I’m not sure about that,’ Aubrey said. ‘Military secrets, battle plans, things like that.’

Sophie threw her hands up in the air. ‘Secrets! That is the way military people think. Do not the people deserve to know what is happening?’

‘Well …’

‘Do you think that Gallians are cowards, ready to collapse if they hear that things are bad? If the Gallian people know, it will only make them more determined to fight!’

George popped a disc of carrot into his mouth and chewed for a moment. ‘If it’s done properly, if a story is well written, it could rally the nation.’

‘After all,’ Caroline put in, ‘the alternative hasn’t worked. Keeping the people in the dark has made them more fearful rather than less.’

Sophie brandished a knife. Aubrey had never seen her so passionate. ‘The government, the generals, they treat the people like children. In Gallia, where we had a revolution for the people!’

‘We’d have to leave out anything that would be useful information for Holmland spies to relay back to Fisherberg,’ Aubrey said and he realised that they now weren’t talking about whether Sophie’s idea was a good one or not – they were discussing the best way to implement it.

‘That will be easy,’ Sophie said.

‘What about the censor?’ George said. ‘In Albion, all the newspapers have to submit war stories to the official censor for approval.’

Sophie laughed. ‘Our government tried such a scheme, but it collapsed. None of the newspapers cooperated. All the cartoonists poked much fun at the idea.’ She looked at George. ‘Poked fun is correct?’

‘You’re perfect, my gem. Fun is poked, not prodded.’

‘How would we get your story to your newspaper?’ Aubrey asked, confident that with such a team, he would have at least one useful answer, if not two or three.

‘George,’ Sophie asked, ‘do you have the time?’

George took out his pocket watch. ‘It’s just after noon.’

‘Very good.’ Sophie went to the door of the kitchen, opened it, and waved. ‘This is Claude,’ she said.

Claude was short and stocky, and when he took off his cloth cap he revealed a shock of thick, black hair that looked as if it would be an excellent defence against head injury. He bowed, nervously. ‘Claude’s father was the editor of the local newspaper,’ Sophie continued. ‘George and I found him on our way back from meeting Major Saltin.’

‘I represent
The Divodorum Journal
,’ Claude said in good Albionish. ‘It is a dull name, but it has been with the people of Divodorum for fifty years. They are used to it.’

‘Claude is the local correspondent for my newspaper,
The Sentinel
, but since the offices of the
Journal
were bombed, his job has been difficult.’

‘I have photographs of the front,’ Claude explained. ‘I want to get them to Lutetia.’

‘How did you get photographs?’ Aubrey asked. ‘Isn’t the military sensitive about things like that?’

Claude beamed, showing a gap in his front teeth. ‘I have friends at the fortress. They send provisions to the front in lorries. A lorry stops at a bridge just to the north. I jump on, spend time at the front, then jump back on the lorry to come home.’

‘No-one objects? What about the officers?’

‘I take photographs of them and promise I will send them to their wives and sweethearts.’

Claude explained how he’d cross the river and catch a train to Lutetia with Sophie’s stories and his photographs never leaving his grasp.

Sophie insisted that he had been a reliable contact in the past. ‘I will have an account of the defence of Divodorum ready tomorrow,’ she said.

Aubrey thought about the timing. The adage about two birds and one stone came to mind. ‘Claude, if you can join us here at ten o’clock on Thursday, we have to hire a barge to fetch a delivery across the river. If you help us find a reliable bargemaster, we will pay and give you a lift.’

‘A lift?’ Claude raised an eyebrow at Sophie.

‘We will take you across the river as our guest,’ she said airily. ‘It is an Albionish way of saying things.’

C
LAUDE WAS LEAVING WHEN THE LORRIES WITH VON
Stralick, Madame Zelinka and the Enlightened Ones drove in through the gates. The backboards banged down. A few of the Enlightened Ones had to be helped down by friends. Aubrey dragged open the front doors of the factory. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing.’ Madame Zelinka was grey-faced with exhaustion and something else – pain? ‘And too much.’

‘We have a major problem here in Divodorum,’ von Stralick said. He eased Madame Zelinka to a chair, and Aubrey then saw that she was cradling one arm in the other.

‘Only half the Enlightened Ones have come back,’ Caroline said softly.

Von Stralick barked orders to Madame Zelinka’s colleagues. The uninjured began unloading medical supplies from the lorries, while four sat on the floor, against the wall, roughly bandaged.

‘What happened?’ Aubrey repeated.

Von Stralick shook his head. ‘Downstairs. Close the doors first.’

In the basement, the Enlightened Ones showed no trace of panic, just careful, methodical movements. The injured were helped down the stairs and onto the bedding that took up most of the floor space. Others distributed water.

Madame Zelinka refused to lie down. Von Stralick eased her into one of the ancient lounge chairs that George had bought when trying to make the place more comfortable. ‘The fire, at the warehouse.’ Madame Zelinka took a quick inhalation through her teeth, hissing as von Stralick eased her arm a little to arrange a sling around it. When he was done he kept a hand on her shoulder, gently. ‘It has spawned something, a bad residue.’

Aubrey remembered the powerful spell remains that he’d found underneath Dr Tremaine’s Fisherberg residence. ‘It attacked you?’

‘It is dangerous,’ Madame Zelinka said. Her head bowed and she gestured weakly at von Stralick.

He took up the story. ‘The fire was put out by the fireboat, but the animation remained and grew in strength. Zelinka was clubbed by a length of steel that was lying on the ground one minute, then hopping about the next. Soon the entire factory was alive. Our people were fighting for their lives.’

Aubrey shuddered. ‘I might be of some assistance.’

‘We can cope with animated building materials,’ Madame Zelinka said through clenched teeth, ‘but the situation is much worse than that.’

‘The residue is draining into the river,’ von Stralick explained. ‘It could contaminate the whole city. We left some of our people there to do what they could, but it could be very bad.’

‘It will fester and grow if we don’t stop it,’ Madame Zelinka murmured. ‘Divodorum, then downstream.’

Sophie, the native Gallian, was most horrified. She put both hands to her mouth before asking, ‘The animation will spread?’

‘It could.’ Aubrey rubbed his forehead. ‘Magical residue is unpredictable, but I’d say that every town downriver of Divodorum is in danger.’

‘It is our duty to stop it,’ Madame Zelinka said. ‘We will rest, then go back.’

‘I’d like to help,’ Aubrey insisted. He was already running spells through in his mind.

‘Help?’ Madame Zelinka almost smiled. ‘Do you remember the last time you tried to deal with magical residue?’

Aubrey had barely survived, and it was only the fortunate interference from the Beccaria Cage that had allowed him to escape. ‘I’m willing.’

‘I know, I know.’ Madame Zelinka waved a tired hand. ‘Stay here. Leave the residue to the experts.’ She closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Her jaw was clenched against the pain.

Von Stralick caught Aubrey’s eye and took him aside. While the Enlightened Ones moved about with quiet assurance, with Caroline, George and Sophie distributing food to the hungry, von Stralick spoke softly. ‘She is in pain, Fitzwilliam. Surely you know some medical magic.’

‘I don’t. I have the greatest respect for those who do.’

‘Respect?’

‘It scares me.’

‘I have trouble imagining you scared by such a thing.’

‘It’s …’ Aubrey waved a hand, vaguely. ‘It’s so complicated, casting spells that work with all the bits and pieces inside you.’

‘I am informed that you’ve rarely avoided complicated magic in the past.’

‘This is different.’ Aubrey ran his fingers through his hair. ‘If I knew medical magic, I would have used it on you, Hugo, when you were sick. You know that.’

Caroline came over and passed them cups of tea. ‘My training included basic first aid, Hugo. I’ll do what I can.’

Aubrey hadn’t liked letting Hugo down like that, but like most non-magicians, the Holmlander didn’t have any idea about how complex magic was.

Feeling helpless as the Enlightened Ones regrouped, with Caroline’s assistance, he went back upstairs to the kitchen. Sophie and George were busy ladling soup into mugs. George looked over his shoulder. ‘Those potatoes won’t peel themselves, you know.’

Aubrey looked at the pile on the bench and sighed. He picked up the knife and went to work, pondering the glamorous life of an international security operative.

L
ATER THAT AFTERNOON
, A
UBREY BICYCLED OUT TO
where the Enlightened Ones were hard at work. Their skills were always of interest to him and he watched while the more actively magical of the corps stood at the perimeter of what he saw as a multi-chorused, multi-coloured stain that was spreading from the warehouse site, across the embankment and dripping into the river. Three or four of the Enlightened Ones were chanting spells, short and sharp, in a language unfamiliar to him. Two were waist deep in the river with their arms spread, heads down, as if they were herding fish.

Aubrey concentrated. He felt the pulsing of the residue as both cruel and threatening. He wasn’t surprised, either, that it had the definite touch of Dr Tremaine. When he narrowed his focus, though, he became sure that even though Dr Tremaine’s signature element was buried deep in the magic, his
presence
was missing. Aubrey was sure that this compression spell was another that Dr Tremaine had organised, but had allowed someone else to actually activate. It was more delegated magic, and Aubrey wondered how far Dr Tremaine had gone with this process.

Other Enlightened Ones were warily circling the smouldering remains of the warehouse. At intervals, one of them would crouch and use a small trowel to scrape away at the earth outside the crumbled walls. Aubrey had no idea what they were doing, but the malevolent animation that had seized the building was well under control.

A
UBREY ARRIVED BACK AT THE FACTORY TO FIND THAT
George and Sophie had procured a treasure trove of fresh vegetables, meat, fish and fruit. They’d even found milk and cream fresh that day.

After stowing his bicycle, Aubrey stood at the door from the yard and stared at the single long table that took up nearly half the length of the ground floor. It was covered with white linen, but Aubrey was sure that since the benches appeared to have vanished, the banquet table was actually several bookbinders’ workplaces pushed together.

If the table settings were meagre, George and Sophie had made up for it with the bunches of fresh flowers in glass jars that were evenly spaced along the centre of the table, alternating with an assortment of candles. The dishes being handed around were cheered as they were brought out steaming – ragout, baked fish, a roast leg of pork, huge bowls of vegetables steamed, roasted and fried.

George saw Aubrey standing open-mouthed. He approached, wiping his hands on the brightly spotty apron he wore. ‘You have a booking, sir?’

‘For one,’ Aubrey said faintly. ‘In the name of Fitzwilliam.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve been instructed to usher you to a table for two in a corner away from the band, in the name of Hepworth.’

‘Really?’

‘Sorry, old man, just joking. It’s find your own seat here tonight.’ George rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, how the little things can make a difference. Not a jolly lot, these Enlightened Ones, but feed them up and suddenly the jokes start pouring out.’

‘Sometimes I think we’re fighting for the little things as well as the big things.’

‘Never a truer word was spoken. Would you like some dinner?’

‘Yes please.’ Aubrey stopped. ‘I like your apron. The lace edge is a lovely touch.’

‘It’s quite fashionable. All the best people are wearing them in Lutetia, apparently.’

Aubrey actually found a seat next to Caroline and, for an hour or so, had fun eating, talking, passing platters of food right and left, and learning useful things like the best way to confuse a polar bear.

George and Sophie made sure the food kept rolling out of the kitchen for what was obviously a continuous dinner rather than something with discrete courses. The Enlightened Ones came and went as their shift at the warehouse ended, or started. The weariness of the returnees dissipated with the hospitality, but the faces of those who were leaving were pitiful, and many lingered for a last bite or riposte, or a whispered conversation with a friend.

As midnight approached, the dinner began to crawl to a conclusion. Caroline excused herself to the hairy Enlightened One on her left, and leaned over to Aubrey. ‘I’m going to see if the airwaves have anything for us.’

‘Do you think the Directorate might be transmitting tonight?’

‘It’s coming up to optimum reception time. It’s best to make sure.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

‘You get some sleep. I hardly have enough room in that booth for me and my equipment as it is.’

‘We could try,’ Aubrey said. His self-consciousness had obviously been lulled into a soporific state by the dinner, for the words were out of his mouth before he knew it. ‘Sorry,’ he said, but he was delighted when Caroline tapped him on the shoulder.

‘Not tonight. It’s too important.’

She left him staring into the air.