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machine? With a supply of engineered canisters ready to be filled, identical spells could be churned out over and over again, as seemed to be the case here. The first three cylinders had melted and burst, evidence of the spells having been triggered. The metal looked like aluminium, or thin steel, strong enough to be packed and stored, light enough to carry, but not presenting any impediment to the operation of the spells.
    Aubrey was left with one poser. How was he going to investigate the basement without setting off a dozen transference spells? He didn’t fancy having to catch himself mid-plunge again and again. What if he tired and his concentration slipped?
    He shuddered, then he hummed a little, deep at the back of his throat, before a smile spread across his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a penny. The profile of King William stared at him. Aubrey saluted, then flipped the coin into the air.
    It bounced on the stone floor, rolled a little, then wobbled to a halt and lay there, unmoving.
    ‘Non-living objects don’t trigger the spells,’ Aubrey said aloud and, for a moment, his brain hared off in a wayward direction, wondering if this spell could be turned into a very effective method of ridding a place of vermin.
    Von Stralick pursed his lips. ‘What if the spells are triggered according to weight rather than one’s living status?’
    ‘Good point, Hugo. Fortunately, I’ve already thought of a way to test this.’
    They spent the next fifteen minutes hauling objects of increasing weight from the gardens, down the stairs and launching them into the basement, where they accumulated, stubbornly not being transported over the edge of the cliff: a garden gnome, a large flower pot complete with daphne, a birdbath and finally a sundial nearly as tall as von Stralick.
    ‘So.’ Aubrey dusted his hands together. ‘I think we’ve proved that it’s not entry into the basement that triggers the spell, but the entry of something living into the basement.’
    ‘Not exactly.’ Von Stralick thrust a hand through the doorway. He remained untranslated.
    ‘Just so. Touching the floor is the crucial trigger.’
    ‘And am I correct in surmising that you want to enter the basement without touching the floor?’
    ‘That I am. Stand still.’
    Aubrey ran through his levitation spell. Von Stralick flailed a little when he rose, and he whirled his arms in circles. ‘This is most awkward.’
    ‘Steady, Hugo. You should be perfectly stable if you don’t move too quickly.’
    Von Stralick looked sceptical, but he eased his frantic movements. ‘And how do we move ourselves along if our feet can’t touch the ground to propel us?’
    ‘We use our hands.’ Aubrey seized the doorframe. ‘Keep close to the wall and push yourself along. And mind your head.’
    Their progress was clumsy, but steady. Aubrey found that if he leaned toward the wall, he could shuffle both hands and move toward the part of the room that interested him the most: the strange stalls, especially since he could now see a connection ran from the cables into each stall.
    ‘You are rather good at this, Fitzwilliam, this magic business.’
    ‘Thanks, Hugo. I do my best.’
    ‘Zelinka said you were an outstanding talent.’
    ‘She did?’ Aubrey was startled and pleased. Madame Zelinka was not effusive, but she had seen enough magic and operational magicians for Aubrey to value her judgement.
    ‘And Dr Tremaine had a high opinion of your abilities, too.’
    ‘I beg your pardon?’
    Von Stralick eased his way around the corner of the room. ‘It was in your file. Don’t look so surprised. You should have known that the Holmland intelligence agencies have a dossier on you. One that I helped to compile.’
    Aubrey remembered first encountering von Stralick when the Holmlander was a trusted part of the Holmland spying machinery. Naturally he would have reported his encounters with Aubrey. ‘I suppose the son of the Albion Prime Minister