sense of movement. With it, all his sense of excitement was banished in a second, to be replaced by a growing fear.
It’s alive , thought Nick.
He stepped back to the door, almost knocking over Lackridge, his mind working furiously.
The thing is alive. Quiescent. Conserving its energies, so far from the Old Kingdom . It must be some Free Magic creature, and it’s just waiting for a chance—
‘Thank you, Professor Lackridge, but I find myself suddenly rather keen on a cup of tea,’ blurted Nick. ‘Do you think we might come back and look at this specimen tomorrow?’
‘I’m supposed to make Malthan touch the case,’ said Lackridge. ‘Dorrance was most insistent upon it. Wants to see his reaction.’
Nick edged back and looked down the corridor. Malthan was crouched by the door.
‘I think you’ve seen his reaction,’ he said. ‘Anything more would simply be cruel, and hardly scientific.’
‘He’s only an Old Kingdom trader,’ said Lack-ridge. ‘He’s not even strictly legal. Conditional visa. We can do whatever we like with him.’
‘What!’ exclaimed Nick.
‘Within reason,’ Lackridge added hastily. ‘I mean, nothing too drastic. Do him good.’
‘I think he needs to get on a train north and go back to the Old Kingdom,’ said Nick firmly. He liked Lackridge less and less with every passing minute, and the whole Department Thirteen setup seemed very dubious. It was all very well for his uncle Edward to talk about having extralegal entities to do things the government could not, but the line had to be drawn somewhere, and Nick didn’t think Dorrance or Lackridge knew where to draw it—or if they did, when not to step over it.
‘I’ll just see how he is,’ added Nick. An idea started to rise from the recesses of his mind as he walked down the corridor toward the crouched and shivering man pressed against the door. ‘Perhaps we can walk out together.’
‘Mr. Dorrance was most insistent—’ ‘I’m sure he won’t mind if you tell him that I insisted on escorting Malthan on his way.’
‘But—’
‘I am insisting, you know,’ Nick cut in forcefully. ‘As it is, I shall have a few words to say about this place to my uncle.’
‘If you’re going to be like that, I don’t think I have any choice,’ said Lackridge petulantly. ‘We were assured that you would cooperate fully with our research.’
‘ I will cooperate, but I don’t think Malthan needs to do any more for Department Thirteen,’ said Nick. He bent down and helped the Old Kingdom trader up. He was surprised by how much the smaller man was shaking. He seemed totally in the grip of panic, though he calmed a little when Nick took his arm above the elbow. ‘Now, please show us out. And you can organise someone to take Malthan to the railway station.’
‘You don’t understand the importance of our work,’ said Lackridge. ‘Or our methods. Observing the superstitious reactions of northerners and our own people delivers legitimate and potentially useful information.’
This was clearly only a pro forma protest, because as Lackridge spoke, he unlocked the door and led them quickly through the corridors. After a few minutes, Nick found that he didn’t need to half carry Malthan anymore, but could just point him in the right direction.
Eventually, after numerous turns and more doors that required laborious unlocking, they came to a double-width steel door with two spy holes. Lackridge knocked, and after a brief inspection, they were admitted to a guardroom inhabited by five policeman types. Four were sitting around a linoleum-topped table under a single suspended lightbulb, drinking tea and eating doorstop-size sandwiches. Hodgeman was the fifth, and clearly still on duty, as unlike the others he had not removed his coat.
‘Sergeant Hodgeman,’ Lackridge called out rather too loudly. ‘Please escort Mr Sayre upstairs and have one of your other officers take Malthan to Dorrance Halt and see he gets on the
Elizabeth Amelia Barrington