Free Word of Honour by Michael Pryor

was
to be as good a leader as his father. He couldn't do it in
the same way – he had a horror of being seen as a pale
imitation. He had to shape his own style. He just hadn't
quite worked out what that was.
    Sir Norman arrived with the deposit box. It was grey
metal, the size of a small suitcase. The governor needed
both arms to carry it, but the box didn't seem to be
heavy. He placed it in front of Sir Darius and once
the ledger had been signed, he backed out of the room,
taking Collins and closing the door behind him.
    Sir Darius drummed his fingers for a moment. Then
he found a key in his jacket. He unlocked the box and
took out a small, blue velvet bag. 'This belongs to you,
Aubrey. It's time for you to have it.'
    Aubrey saw that the bag was worn at one corner, and
the drawstring a little frayed. He hesitated. 'Sir?'
    'Take it.'
    The bag was light, but lumpy. Carefully, Aubrey
loosened the string. He held out his palm and shook the
bag, very gently.
    A deep red gemstone tumbled out and sat in his
hand. It was the size of his thumbnail. 'Thank you,'
Aubrey said, in his awe unable to summon anything
more profound.
    'It's the Brayshire Ruby. A family heirloom.'
    'But shouldn't it be yours?'
    'It's a Leap Legacy. It skips a generation. Your grandfather
had it, now it's your turn.'
    Aubrey stared at it while he tried to sort out a jumble
of emotions. Mostly, he was surprised. He'd been struggling
for his father's approval for so long that this tangible
sign took him completely unaware. He was humbled,
too, by the reality of his connection with the long history
of the family that was here in his hand. And, with typical
Aubrey perverseness, he was pricked by self-doubt. Did
he really deserve this?
    The stone was pear-shaped. It sparkled with a fire that
came from deep within, a core of ruddy light. Aubrey
stroked it with the tip of his forefinger. It felt warm.
    'What should I do with it?'
    'That's the challenge. Your grandfather had it set in a
ring, but found it too clumsy to wear, except on special
occasions. Tradition says, however, you can't simply repeat
what the previous holder did.'
    'I'm going to have it set in a watchcase,' Aubrey
said and he blinked. He hadn't consciously come to a
conclusion; it had simply popped into his head fully
formed. But having blurted it out, the notion seemed
perfect. He was conscious of time – having too little,
seeing it run away too fast, the pressing urgency of it.
Perhaps having a timepiece of his own could be a way
of taming it.
    'A watch? Novel idea. I don't think that's been done
before.' Sir Darius looked pleased. 'We'll arrange for
Anderson and Sutch to send someone around. They're
excellent jewellers. You can explain what you want done.'
    Sir Darius sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers.
He smiled.
    'Was this some sort of test?' Aubrey asked.
    'Only in the broadest possible sense. Each of our
family heirs must go through this.'
    Aubrey folded his fist over the ruby. 'You didn't.'
    'Oh, but I did. I had to take possession of the Brayshire
Sapphire.'
    'Ah, the mysterious Brayshire Sapphire.' Aubrey had
never heard of the Brayshire Sapphire.
    Sir Darius snorted. 'There's nothing mysterious about
it. It just made a dashed ugly cigarette case look even
more hideous. I don't know what I was thinking. I've
never smoked.'
    Aubrey felt the gem in his hand. It was surprisingly
warm. 'Thank you, sir,' he repeated.
    'It's yours, Aubrey, as it was your grandfather's. It's
something that's been handed down, generation after
generation. It reminds you of who you are.'
    Aubrey's throat was tight. He swallowed. 'Sir. I'll do my
best to live up to the family name.'
    'What?' Sir Darius regarded him with raised eyebrows.
'Why, you've done that already, Aubrey, a hundred times
over.'

Six
    A UBREY HAD MUCH TO THINK ABOUT ON THE journey back to Maidstone, but he forgot it all
when he saw the figure waiting for him at the front
door.
    'George! All's well at home?'
    George frowned a little,