'Isn't anyone doing anything?'
'No. It's up to us.'
He darted out. On the other side of the archway, the space between the two buildings opened into a covered gallery supported by slender, cast-iron pillars. It was empty, apart from the soulless horror and a terrified charwoman who had dropped her bucket and mop. She cowered against the wall and covered her eyes.
Aubrey moved into the vacant-eyed woman's field of vision, flapping his arms. 'Here! Here!' In an instant George was by his side, jumping around and waving.
The horror staggered back from the charwoman, then lumbered around, seeking the source of this noisy interruption. 'Good,' Aubrey said. He refused to be taken prisoner by panic, no matter how much he felt like it.
'Now, George, you keep her distracted while I work on a spell.'
George glanced at Aubrey. 'Be quick about it, old man, if you would.'
'I'll do my best.'
George moved to one side, still waving his arms and shouting, doing his best to keep the woman's attention. She moaned and drooled, then lurched at him, but he skipped back and slid to one side. He shoved her shoulder, putting her off balance, and quickly moved away.
In the meantime, Aubrey was rehearsing a spell. It was a simple binding spell, something he'd used a thousand times. It applied the Law of Cohesion and the Law of Elastic Deformation. It could be strengthened in intensity or lengthened in duration by careful variation of parameters.
This application was simple. All he wanted to do was to manacle the woman's feet, hobbling them, and bind her arms to her side. He knew it would tax his energy, given his declining state, but there was little else he could do.
He focused on the empty one as she grappled with George, and began.
The first few syllables came easily, but Aubrey was shocked when the subsequent syllables were awkward on his tongue. What should have been a straightforward spell became a struggle. He started to sweat as the individual spell elements seemed to resist his pronouncing them. His muscles began to tremble and his head throbbed abominably.
The final syllables fell from his lips and Aubrey immediately knew that he'd botched the spell. A handful of dull shreds – flimsy fragments, quite unlike the robust bonds he'd been attempting to summon – appeared and fell to the flagstones. They shrivelled and vanished.
'Stop messing about, old man,' George called. 'I'm in a spot of bother here.'
Dazed, Aubrey stared at where the shreds had fallen. It was a simple spell. He should have been able to cast it in his sleep.
He realised his hands were trembling. Pain burned in the small joints of his knuckles. He clenched his teeth and then hissed as his jaw became two bright spots of agony where it hinged. A wave of terrible fatigue swept through him and he thought he was about to collapse.
A grunt brought Aubrey back to his surroundings. George was backing away from the shambling woman. With the back of one hand, he smeared at a trickle of blood on his cheek, his face a grimace that combined fear and uncertainty.
Aubrey shook himself. His condition might be parlous, but his friend was in danger. Ignoring the pain, he brought his hands together and clasped them, tightly, to stop the trembling. Then he began the spell again.
This time, the syllables rolled smoothly off his tongue, each one articulated clearly, with no dangerous elisions or slurring. After uttering the final element, a glowing ribbon flipped through the air and wrapped itself around the woman's ankles.
Aubrey let out a sigh of relief, but before he could examine his condition again the woman tottered and started to fall backward, making no effort to cushion her fall. Aghast, Aubrey saw that her head was going to smash on the stone.
He flung himself, catching her by the shoulders and grating his elbows on the flagstones. But instead of being grateful, she reached up and clawed at his face, snarling. Without letting go, he jerked his head back and tucked in his chin to protect his throat. 'George!'
'Right here.'
George grabbed at the woman's arms, but she wrenched them away. 'Look out!' Aubrey cried and George barely avoided having his ear bitten off.
Aubrey eased her to the ground then leapt back. 'Hold up her arms!'
George struggled, then seized both wrists. Aubrey chanted the spell again. Another glowing loop appeared and bound the woman's wrists.
Panting, George stepped back and glared at her. 'She tried to make a meal of my ear.' He sounded more offended than afraid.
The woman thrashed on the ground. Aubrey wiped his brow. The pain in his joints had receded somewhat, but still lay there like coals ready to burst into flame. 'I should have done the hands first. Idiot.' The woman settled and growled. Her face and eyes remained as blank as new paper.
Aubrey became aware that people were drawing closer. They were fearful, but curious, and soon were crowding around the unfortunate woman. Students, he decided, with a few professors elbowing for room and trying not to appear undignified.
A figure at the rear caught Aubrey's gaze. A slender man in a grey flannel suit and a grey trilby. He had one hand in his pocket and, when he noticed Aubrey's attention, he stepped back behind a pillar. Aubrey went to move in that direction, but before he could follow, a uniformed police officer stepped through the crowd.
'Ah, Fitzwilliam,' he said, in his stylishly accented Albionish. 'It is you again.'
'Inspector Paul.' Aubrey straightened his tie and tried to look as law-abiding as possible.
Inspector Paul gestured and four constables appeared with straps and heavy belts. 'I take it this is your spell work?' Inspector Paul asked Aubrey. 'Would you please cancel it?'
'Do you think that's wise?'
'My men are experienced. There will be no danger.'
Aubrey gathered himself and cast the short negation spell. Before the soulless woman could react, Inspector Paul's squad bound her until she couldn't move. With smooth efficiency, they lifted her and disappeared through the crowd.
'Now,' Inspector Paul said, 'I believe I will have to ask you to come with me to the police station. I have some questions that need to be asked.'
Not a good time, Inspector. 'I'm afraid I can't do that. Not at the moment. I have business to attend to.' Some rest and some restorative spells, for a start.
'I can insist.'
Aubrey had some sympathy for Inspector Paul. He also didn't want to make an enemy who could make his life difficult in Lutetia. On the other hand, he had no desire to subject himself to the notoriously labyrinthine Gallian police procedures, where, it was rumoured, people had died of old age waiting to be questioned.
He held up a hand and smiled with what he hoped was the right amount of apology. 'I'm keen to help, Inspector, but I'm sure this matter can wait, can it not?'
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, AUBREY AND GEORGE WERE IN an office on the third floor of the Lutetian Police Headquarters with a stony-faced Inspector Paul tapping a pen on an inkwell. The sound set Aubrey's teeth on edge.