Heart of Gold

He grunted as it required more effort than he expected, but his concern was overtaken by a guttural shout. He peeped over the backrest of the pew. The black-suited man was wrapped in a stinking cloud, a putrid miasma that clung to him no matter how much he flailed and cursed.

I know I'm going to regret this later, he thought, but by then he'd already sprung to his feet, then onto the seat of the pew. He barked the three syllables that cancelled the spell and launched himself at the man.

The cloud had begun to evaporate, but when Aubrey collided with the figure inside, he caught a lungful of the rotten, sickening stench and instantly wished he was somewhere else. He tangled with the black-suited man and fell to the floor, trying to get in a few uppercuts along the way.

Eyes streaming, Aubrey rolled over as his stomach tried to rush up his throat. He managed to get to all fours, a part of his brain readying for the kick he assumed would be delivered to his ribs.

When it didn't come, he looked up and saw George grappling with their foe. Caroline slipped into Aubrey's watery vision as the bearded man roared and knocked George aside. George struck a marble pillar and sagged, winded. Their foe's eyes widened when he saw Caroline, then he sneered.

She darted closer, then shot out a fist. It struck him just under the breastbone. His eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled.

Caroline rubbed her knuckles, then helped Aubrey to his feet. 'Are you all right?'

He wiped his eyes. 'I'll never think that stink bombs are harmless pranks. Not any more.'

'I imagine not.'

George limped over. 'The other two. I think they've got away.'

Whistles sounded from outside. Aubrey had a premonition and was not disappointed when Inspector Paul rounded the corner, supported by a squad of burly constables. He studied Aubrey sourly.

'I should have locked you away,' he said, in Albionish.

Aubrey pointed at the unconscious bearded man at their feet. 'His cronies stole the Heart of Gold. If you're quick, you may be able to catch them.'

'Do not attempt to teach me my business. I have matters in hand.' Inspector Paul motioned to the constables. 'Put them all in the wagon,' he said in Gallian.

He bowed to Caroline. 'Except you, Miss Hepworth. You will come with me.'

Aubrey sighed. 'What about this man? He's a magician, you know.'

'The Bureau of Exceptional Investigations has been called and will take him into their custody.'

The Bureau of Exceptional Investigations. Aubrey was intrigued, despite his discomfort. He wanted to see this equivalent of Albion's Magisterium.

The constables were abrupt, but not rough as they marched Aubrey and George through the cathedral and out into the open air. A crowd had gathered and they were escorted through it to the waiting police wagons. With no ceremony, Aubrey and George were bundled into the nearest.

Inside was a solitary figure, handcuffed and looking most displeased, stooped over and glowering.

Aubrey grinned. 'Well, hello, Hugo! Fancy meeting you here!'

Hugo von Stralick winced, then straightened with a smile. 'Ah, Fitzwilliam, Doyle. I see you've fallen foul of this misunderstanding, too.'

'What have you been up to?' Aubrey asked.

Von Stralick tried to shrug, but the manacles made the gesture awkward. 'I was simply trying to stop them, that's all.'

'Stop who?' George asked.

'The Holmlanders who stole the Heart of Gold.'

Seven

IT WAS THE ALBION AMBASSADOR HIMSELF, SIR PERCY Derringford, who was waiting with Inspector Paul when Aubrey and George were brought from the cells. A broad, silver-haired man, he scowled as if he'd been disturbed from a very fine dinner.

'They are yours, Ambassador,' Inspector Paul said. 'From what the nun told us, it seems clear that they are not the perpetrators of the theft.'

'Good of you, Inspector.'

'Not at all.' Inspector Paul smoothed back his hair, even though it didn't need any adjustment. 'I do not say that these people are entirely innocent. Especially that one.' He gestured at Aubrey. 'But we feel it best to let them go – as long as they agree not to make this affair public. The authorities have decided that it would be unhelpful if the incident were widely known.'

The Ambassador glared at Aubrey. 'I'll take them in hand.'

Aubrey did his best to appear compliant. 'But before you do, sir, I have a question for the Inspector.' He hurried on before the Ambassador had a chance to deny this request. 'You've found the Heart of Gold? The thieves?'

Inspector Paul stiffened. 'We are doing what we can. We have blocked all exits from the city to ensure the artefact doesn't leave.'

'What's happening to von Stralick?'

Sir Percy grunted. 'The Holmland spy? He's mixed up in this?'

Inspector Paul glanced at Sir Percy, shrugged, then answered Aubrey 'We have questions for him, on a number of matters. Especially since the other Holmlander has died.'

'The magician's dead?'

'He took his own life. By sorcerous means.'

AT THE EMBASSY, SIR PERCY ORDERED AUBREY AND George to his office. After arriving at the conclusion that Caroline was a helpless party to the events, she'd been whisked off by maids before she could express her displeasure at the notion that she was helpless about anything.

Aubrey and George, however, were castigated in the Ambassador's domain, a room full of such heavy, dark furniture that Aubrey guessed its maker had a fear that one day it might try to float away.

Sir Percy's reprimand drew on his military background. It was pointed, forceful and colourful. It raised points about duty and responsibility and also dwelled on various character deficiencies that the Ambassador found personally repugnant. Standing next to George, in front of the monolithic desk, Aubrey was concerned at first, then grew irritated, then finally drifted into a state of admiration for Sir Percy's dogged inventiveness.

The Ambassador didn't end with a flourish. He ended by fixing them with a grim eye. 'If I were your father, I wouldn't have you gallivanting about foreign parts like this.'

Aubrey stiffened. He'd been prepared to endure the Ambassador's tirade, but he wasn't about to ignore this criticism of his father.

'Sir Percy, I am here with the consent of both my father and my mother. They trust me – and George – to do the right thing. They are aware that I may make mistakes.' How could they not be? 'But they know that I will shirk neither my responsibility nor my duty.'

'Now listen here, young Fitzwilliam –'

Aubrey held up a hand. 'Not once have you asked what happened. Not once have you sought to find out the truth of the matter. That is your right, I suppose, but do not attempt to sully the reputation of my family for matters that concern me only. And my friends.' Damn, he thought. I was doing well until that lame ending.