'Sir Darius's son?' Gabriel said with tones that suggested that this was a synonym for 'a useful political lever'.
'I have that honour.'
George wandered to a nearby workbench and reached for a spanner. 'Don't touch that,' Gabriel snapped.
George raised an eyebrow at Aubrey, who translated for him. 'He doesn't speak much Gallian,' he explained to Gabriel, then he frowned and rubbed his hands together. Magic was stirring, somewhere nearby. 'What's that noise?'
From outside the hangar, shouts and cries of fear competed with a deep, growling sound. He turned in time to see two Marchmainers running through a door. One of them had blood streaming from his forehead. Aubrey stared. They were being chased by a bear.
Aubrey had seen bears in the zoo – fat, lazy creatures who looked as if they'd enjoyed a bun too many. This beast was recognisably related, but only in the same way that a pug and a wolf were cousins.
It was huge, the size of a bull. Great muscles moved underneath its fur, driving massive limbs toward its prey. As it came through the doorway, its flank crashed against the metal, bending it out of shape. It paused, then reared onto its back legs, roaring and slashing at the air with wicked claws.
The roar echoed around the hangar, and slipped straight past the usually competent filter of Aubrey's brain. Instead, it went directly to some small, hidden gland that seemed to have the responsibility for inducing marrow-freezing terror when confronted by a bear. The gland may have been a busy worker in the early days of humanity, but with the dearth of bears in the last few centuries it had been quite idle for a long time. Judging by the effects the roar was having, Aubrey guessed the gland was making up for lost time.
He broke out in a cold sweat. His legs trembled and his feet were moving, ready to help him run for his life. His heart thundered, and his mouth went dry.
Then the bear dropped to all fours and charged at the fleeing Marchmainers, moving from its sitting position to motion in one, smooth action. The nearest Marchmainer made a lucky decision and darted sideways. The bear tried to change direction but skidded on the concrete floor and crashed into a barrel of scrap iron. It sprawled for a moment, then it rolled and sat up, shaking itself just like a wet dog.
The clangour seemed to waken the onlookers from a dream. Gabriel whipped out his knife, then stared at it and the bear. He jammed it back in its sheath with a curse.
Caroline shook her sleeve and a length of iron bar fell into her hand. Before Aubrey could wonder where she'd got it from, she threw it at the bear. It struck the animal in the chest, but, apart from drawing its attention, had no other effect. The bear dropped to all fours and shook its muzzle, which was, Aubrey noted with misgiving, bloody.
Then he realised that the magic he'd felt was coming from the bear.
He backed up a step, heart racing in his chest, and bumped into the workbench. He felt behind him, without taking his eyes from the very unhappy bear.
'Don't move suddenly,' Saltin said. 'He may not be interested in us.'
'I don't care,' Aubrey said. 'I'm sure being attacked by an uninterested bear hurts just as much as being attacked by an interested bear.'
'No doubt you are right.'
Aubrey locked eyes with Caroline. 'Bears can climb.'
'Trees,' she said, 'but it may not know much about scaffolding.'
'Neither do I,' said George, 'but I'm willing to learn, and very quickly.'
The two Marchmainers who had been the bear's original prey had managed to scramble over the scrap heap and to put a flat-bed lorry between them and the brute. One had armed himself with a length of chain while the other had a sheet of galvanised iron.
With slow, deliberate movements, Caroline took off her bonnet and kicked off her shoes to stand in bare feet. Then, to the amazement of the Marchmainers, whose attention was torn between her and the bear, she discarded her dress to stand, poised, in what she'd called her fighting uniform.
It was black silk, a two-piece outfit – jacket and trousers, tied with a cloth belt about her waist. Aubrey had seen her in it before, but familiarity had not dulled the experience.
Caroline caught him staring and rolled her eyes. He held up a hand in mute apology, but he felt inspired enough to try some magic. He was sure he could conjure up something, even given his diminished reserves of strength.
After all, he thought, it's only a bear.
His binding spell wouldn't be strong enough to hold the massive creature. He'd used the stinking cloud recently enough to feel confident in rolling it out again, but the notion chafed at him. It would be like telling a joke twice. Not good showmanship.
A spell suggested itself. The Law of Thermal Impermanence said that the longer the duration of magically conjured heat, the more difficult the spell. But if he could cast a number of tightly focussed, short-lasting spots of heat on the floor, he may be able to herd the bear back outside. Neat, harmless, but it should prove to be quite dramatic. The spell was undemanding, and he was sure he could handle it.
He aligned the elements in his mind, then he pronounced them crisply so that the first spot of heat would appear right under the bear's rear paws.
The animal growled, then leaped to one side in an ungainly bound. It peered suspiciously at its feet, but Aubrey was ready. He repeated the spell with different locational coordinates and the bear lumbered forward again, huffing as it shuffled away from the hot spot.
Aubrey was aware that Caroline was watching him closely. George inched around the bench while the bear was distracted. 'I'll slam the door if you can get him outside,' he said.
The bear sniffed, trying to find what was tormenting it. Aubrey snapped out the spell twice in quick succession and felt a surge of dizziness. He ignored it and the bear dropped into a rolling waddle.
That's right, Aubrey thought as the beast came closer to the open door. Keep going that way and I won't have to do it again.
The bear reached the door, then it shied away, turning its massive body around.
No you don't, thought Aubrey, and he cast the spell again, with a little extra in the element for intensity. One good jolt might be enough.
A teeth-jarring thump and clouds of oily smoke exploded into the air. 'Who set the oil sump on fire?' Gabriel shouted, then Aubrey lost sight of him.
The bear disappeared in the roiling billows, roaring its displeasure. The door vanished. The workbenches and eventually the dirigible were swallowed up. Overhead, the electric lights struggled with the smoke and looked like tired suns.
Coughing, eyes streaming, Aubrey dropped to the floor, looking for sweet air. He heard curses and crashes and the sound of a frightened animal looking for a way out of this hellish place. He peered about frantically, trying to see if the bear was near, but even though the air was clear near the concrete floor, he couldn't see far.
Then, with a start, he realised he wasn't smelling anything.
The smoke, he thought. It should be biting, acrid, awfulsmelling. He took a deep sniff but nothing came to him. His senses were failing, and he rested his forehead against the cool concrete in despair.