Time of Trial by Michael Pryor Read Free Book Online Page A

knew, if things went in their accustomed way, he’d soon start to feel feverish or experience double vision, or any one of a hundred bodily signs. If he couldn’t stave off the disunification of his body and soul, the true death would soon draw closer.
    George glanced at the driver and raised an eyebrow significantly. ‘Ah. Your condition?’
    Through recent experience, Aubrey had learned that everyone had ears. The driver, perhaps, was under no orders to report any conversations, but that was extremely unlikely. ‘Indeed.’ He grimaced. His feet hurt. ‘Do you have that contraption? The Beccaria Cage?’
    Caroline produced it from her handbag. She held it in her open palm where it nestled, strangely repellent. The broken chain hung limply. He shook himself, fighting with his weariness, struggling for his words. ‘I think it works.’
    â€˜What?’ George said, startled. ‘Hold on a minute, old man. It turned you into a mindless assassin. If that’s what you mean by “I think it works”, then I suppose you’re right, but...’
    â€˜It ... it glued me together.’ Aubrey struggled for words. ‘I could feel its effect.’
    â€˜Dr Tremaine, remember,’ Caroline said. ‘The master of the hidden plot. Look inside the exterior.’
    Aubrey cocked his head. Caroline was right. Dr Tremaine was the panjandrum of strategy, of the feint, of misdirection. Again and again, in Albion and in Lutetia, under the sea and under the city, he’d proved that his mind was capable of the most twisted, labyrinthine plots, where what was and what seemed to be swapped with such feverish regularity that one’s own identity was seriously in question.
    Aubrey took the Beccaria Cage and held it up to the window. Letting the light stream through it, he tilted it.
    The tiny silver ball rolled and struck the edge of the cage. It made a dull, heavy sound, then it wobbled a little before it was still.
    â€˜I need to do some magic,’ he said, not taking his eyes from the cage.
    â€˜Here?’ George said. ‘Now?’
    â€˜Can you manage it?’ Caroline asked.
    Aubrey swallowed. His throat was raw and painful. ‘I think I must.’
    Without a word, George reached over and slid the glass pane across, sealing off the rear compartment. Aubrey could see that the driver’s mirror was artfully angled to ensure he could see what was going on in the back, but at least he couldn’t eavesdrop.
    The motorcar rumbled on. Outside, the business of the city streamed past. Carriages, cabs, motorcars, omnibuses. Shops, cafés, government buildings. Trinovantians, foreigners and some who were one pretending to be the other. Appearances and reality , Aubrey thought. Let’s take off the skin and see what lies beneath.
    With a sigh, he lifted the Beccaria Cage again in his left hand. His vision blurred, he squinted, then rubbed his eyes. His eyesight cleared a little and he decided it wasn’t going to get any better than that.
    He gripped the cage. The silver ball rolled then stopped dead and trembled, as if sensing something.
    Concentrating gamely, Aubrey put the forefinger of his right hand up to the wire of the cage. The silver ball jerked and rolled to the far side, even though Aubrey was sure he’d held the cage level.
    With an effort, he wedged the tip of his finger through the wire. It resisted, but he pushed until, with a grunt, he was through, bending the wire to allow access.
    Inside, the silver ball began to roll about in erratic, wild movements, banging into one side of the cage and rebounding to the other like a mouse caught in a well with a cat.
    Aubrey pushed his finger toward the silver ball. It froze for an instant, then quivered, before breaking left. Aubrey was ready for it, though, when it darted back to the right. He caught it against the wall of the cage, trapping it with his fingertip, and he hissed with