Veronica dragged her eyes away from the heap of skulls. She realised Newbury had wandered off again, and she found him inside a small doorless room a little farther up the passage that had been converted from a tomb. She ducked her head beneath the lintel and stepped inside. She was immediately assaulted by a dry, musty smell of dust and decay. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
The room was brightly lit by a naked electric lamp, fed by a curling power cable that snaked in through the open door from the tunnel outside. The generator must have been located somewhere else farther into the complex, probably close to the armoury.
The walls of the tomb had been pasted with schematics and maps, architectural diagrams showing the floor plan of a large building. Others were spread across a table in the centre of the space, and Newbury was studying these with interest. Veronica joined him. Arrows and boxes had been drawn on the plans in thick blue ink, accompanied by notes scrawled alongside them in red.
“The plans for their assault on the palace,” she stated. So this was their hidden war room, where they had planned their offensive against the Queen.
But Newbury was shaking his head. He tapped the schematics on the table. “No. Look again.”
Veronica frowned, but did as he suggested, studying the diagrams more closely. “It’s not the palace!” she said, a moment later.
Newbury grinned. “Indeed not. It’s the Grayling Institute.”
Veronica didn’t know what to make of that. “The Grayling Institute? Are you sure?” She scrutinised the plans again. He was right. “Do you think they’re going to attack there as well?” She shook her head in disbelief. Were they going after more than one target? Had the Bastion Society planned a whole campaign against the Crown?
Newbury turned to her. “No. I think Enoch Graves is a considerably better tactician than he is mediaeval knight. I think they’re going to storm the Grayling Institute instead of the palace.” He smiled as he considered the implications of his words. “Oh, that’s clever…”
“Hold on, why would they choose the Grayling Institute over the palace?” Veronica was confused.
“Because everyone is expecting them to attack the palace. Don’t you see? The intruder was a simple diversion! They set up the entire scenario to make sure the Queen wasn’t-isn’t-looking at what is happening elsewhere. She’ll be so busy concentrating on securing the palace that she won’t even consider that they might be targeting somewhere else.” He was animated now, his mind making connections at a speed she couldn’t even try to keep up with.
“But what will they achieve? I still don’t understand. If they want to bring down the Queen, how is attacking the Grayling Institute going to help them?”
Newbury laughed. “Fabian. Fabian is the key to all of this.” He paced around the table, jittery with sudden energy. “Fabian is the Queen’s physician, the man responsible for keeping her alive. He’s the only person who understands the machines that preserve her life, and the Bastion Society already have a bone to pick with him.”
Veronica saw it then. “So if they kill Fabian and destroy his workshop, the Queen will die anyway. There’ll be no one to keep her machines working.”
“Precisely,” said Newbury, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “They don’t want to kill the Queen themselves. That would be a step too far. Not very chivalrous, is it? But they want to put a stop to her extended life. They want her to die naturally, without intervention. By taking Fabian out of the picture they can achieve their goal indirectly and still revenge the man who betrayed them. It’s ingenious.”
“But the Queen will crucify them. She’ll tear down their whole organisation a man at a time. It’s a suicide mission.”
Newbury nodded. “I suppose they think the end will justify the means. Besides”-he stooped over the table and began rolling up the plans-“they believe in the eternal rebirth of the spirit. They think they’re all going to be reincarnated. Death, to them, is just the passing of a physical form.” He held up the bundled plans. “We should get these to the palace-let the Queen know what they’re planning.”
Veronica caught his arm. “No.” She was trembling, but she gripped his arm firmly, making him listen. “No. We can’t tell the Queen. We have to let this happen.”
Newbury’s eyes widened. “What? Do you know what you’re saying, Veronica? Surely you can’t believe that what they’re doing is right?”
Veronica glared at him. “Amelia’s in there,” she said.
“Then surely it’s better we put a stop to it before she gets hurt?” he replied in an urgent tone.
“She’s already hurt, Maurice! It’s too late to stop that. But if we let this happen, we can be there, and we can get her out. We have their plans. We know how they’re going to do it. We can get her away before it’s too late.”
“But you’re talking about letting them murder the Queen!” He sounded exasperated, as if he thought she’d lost her mind.
“No, I’m not. I’m talking about letting her die a natural death. You said it yourself. And besides, after what she’s done to Amelia, after what she’s done to us… I… well… she can rot for all I care!” She released his arm, leaning back against the table.
Newbury ran a hand through his hair and exhaled loudly.
Veronica couldn’t believe he was still defending the monarch. She’d understood his moral obligation to warn her of the attack, back when they thought it would be a direct assault on the palace, a direct attempt on her life. But this was different. This was their chance to help Amelia, to put right what Fabian and the Queen had done wrong. It would put an end to Fabian’s diabolical experiments, save other people from suffering as Amelia had. If that meant the Queen had to find a new physician, or even if she faded and died without her pet engineer to keep her breathing, well… it was only what any of her subjects would have to face if they were in the same situation.
She turned to Newbury. “I’m going to ask you to make a choice, Maurice. I know that’s not fair of me, but we’re talking about my sister. I’m asking you to choose between the Queen and me. It’s one or the other.”
Newbury frowned. “How can you ask that? How dare you ask me to make that choice?”
“I can ask that because of what she’s done! Because of how she’s manipulated and used us for her own ends, how she’s had Fabian make copies of my sister so they can be tortured and experimented upon and forced to predict the future. The Queen is a monster, sitting in her own filth at the heart of the Empire. She lost her way a long time ago, Maurice, and it’s only because of you that I’m still here, still forcing myself to face her. Can’t you see it? It’s been staring you in the face!” She realised she’d raised her voice in frustration.
“And you’re not trying to manipulate me now? Is that what that kiss was about, back in the cell? Is that it?”
“How dare you?” she retorted. “Is that what you really think?”
Veronica fought to remain calm. Couldn’t he see the truth in what she was saying? Didn’t he realise what the Queen was really like? She took a deep breath. She was trembling with frustration. Newbury wasn’t himself. He couldn’t mean what he was saying. He needed time.
Newbury glowered at her, confusion clouding his face. “I don’t know what to think. You’re being impossible, Veronica. You’re asking me to knowingly allow an army of insane cultists to destroy the monarchy of England. Whatever the Queen has done-whatever-how can I allow that to happen?”
Veronica’s heart sank. “ Listen to me, Maurice,” she said, her voice strained. “You’re defending an ideal, not reality. The truth of the matter is that the Queen is corrupt, and she’s responsible for the very mess we’re in now. For Amelia…” She trailed off, searching for the right words. “Would she do the same for you? If the circumstances were reversed, would she think twice?”