Free Time of Trial by Michael Pryor

Holmland Technological Institute. He has been in Trinovant for five years.’
    â€˜A regular customer here, is he?’ Aubrey asked.
    Von Stralick pointed at a vacant space at the table furthest from the door, right next to a hideously ornate vase. ‘That’s his place. No-one else would dare sit there.’
    â€˜You’ve met Professor Glauber before?’ Aubrey asked Kiefer.
    â€˜He met me when I arrived in Albion and helped me find my feet.’
    â€˜A not inconsiderable task,’ George pointed out.
    â€˜Exactly,’ Kiefer said, then looked puzzled. ‘I beg your pardon?’
    â€˜Never mind,’ said Aubrey. ‘The fact is that you know his voice.’
    â€˜Of course.’
    â€˜Even on the telephone.’
    â€˜It was him,’ Kiefer said firmly.
    â€˜Or a good facsimile,’ Caroline said. ‘Aubrey, is there anyone you know who is expert at assuming other identities?’
    Von Stralick hissed, a long, drawn-out breath. ‘So you think he’s responsible for this?’
    â€˜Dr Tremaine?’ Aubrey said. ‘It has every sign of his work.’
    Aubrey could have sworn that no-one in the room had been listening to them. Conversations had been swirling in and out of the accordion music, waiters had been serving pastries and coffee, the fug of pipe smoke made a misty false ceiling. But immediately he mentioned the ex-Sorcerer Royal it was like dropping a crate full of china at a funeral.
    Conversations ebbed to a halt. The accordionist stopped – again. A few heads turned their way but most gave every indication of straining not to do so. The affected nonchalance was so studied that Aubrey thought it could have passed the civil service examination with first class honours.
    â€˜Ach. It is as I feared,’ Von Stralick said, ignoring the way everyone was ignoring them. ‘Dr Tremaine has increased his power in Fisherberg, you know, so his plots are going to become more dangerous.’
    â€˜You are a bearer of good news,’ George said. He turned in his chair. He searched the room for a moment, then plucked a tray of pastries from a passing waiter. ‘Here. I think we’re going to need these.’
    Conversation gradually resumed until, once again, they were wrapped in the comfortable commerce of humanity, a plausible screen for their discussion.
    Aubrey took one of the pastries. It was sugared and coiled like a snail. He was about to take a bite when he had a thought. ‘Von Stralick, does Dr Tremaine know you’re in Trinovant?’
    â€˜I hope not, but who knows what the villain knows?’
    â€˜And why exactly are you here?’ George asked.
    â€˜Good question, George,’ Aubrey said. ‘Well, von Stralick? Last we heard, you were in Fisherberg, taking care of your career.’
    Von Stralick suddenly found his empty coffee cup vastly interesting. ‘I was. Then my career took care of itself.’
    George harrumphed. ‘Not a spy any more, is that what you’re saying?’
    â€˜Intelligence work wasn’t providing the opportunities it once had. Not with your Dr Tremaine so highly thought of.’
    â€˜Your superior in the Holmland Intelligence Department was not a Dr Tremaine supporter, I take it,’ Caroline said.
    â€˜No. As a result, his influence declined markedly. Even more so after his unfortunate demise.’ He looked up at the ceiling. ‘Suicide, they said. He was a remarkable man, but I think that shooting oneself seven times in the back was beyond even him.’ Von Stralick hardened. ‘His name has been disgraced, his family ruined, thanks to Tremaine.’
    Aubrey felt his stomach turn to ice. This was no game. ‘So you were cast adrift? No-one to report to?’
    â€˜I have my superior’s superior. He didn’t answer my messages so I thought he may be in some difficulty. I decided to take matters into my own hands.’
    â€˜No wonder