Ptolemy's Gate (30 page)

“No. It is not important.”

Clarity came. “Ah, it was Nick Drew.”

“I said it is not important. You cannot be
surprised
that I would want to find you—a fugitive from justice, a member of the Resistance.”

“No,” she said. “I'm just surprised you haven't cut my throat already.”

The magician gave a cry of genuine annoyance. “I am a minister, not a murderer! I help protect our people against … against terrorists like you and your friends.”

“Yeah, because the people are
so
safe in your care,” Kitty sneered. “Half our young men are dying in America, and we've got the police mauling others in the street, and demons attacking anyone who protests, and enemies and spies at large in our suburbs. We're all having a great time!”

“If it wasn't for us, it would be much, much worse!” Mandrake's voice was high and tight; with evident effort he lowered it to a purr. “We use our power to rule for the good of all. The commoners need guidance. Admittedly, we're going through a ropey patch, but—”

“Your power is based on slavery! How can it be for
anyone'
s good?”

The magician seemed genuinely shocked. “Not human slavery,” he said. “Just demons.”

“That makes it better, does it? I think not. Everything you do is tainted with that corruption.”

His answer was faint. “That's not so.”

“It
is
so, and I think you know it.” Kitty frowned at him. “What are you here for? What do you want? The Resistance was a long time ago.”

Mandrake cleared his throat. “I was told …” He drew his coat around him, looked out across the river. “I was told you saved me from the golem. That you risked your life to save mine.” He glanced at her; Kitty kept her face impassive. “I was also told you died doing it. Now that I find you alive, I am … naturally curious as to the truth.”

Kitty scowled. “What do you want: the details? Yes, I did, and I must have been mad. I stopped the golem from crushing your sorry head into a pulp. Then I ran away. That's all there is to it.”

She stared at him fixedly; he gazed back, face pale and stark in the artificial light. The rain pattered down between them.

Mandrake coughed. “Well, the details are fine. Thanks. In fact, that wasn't exactly it so much as—as I kind of wondered
why.
“ He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I don't know,” Kitty said. “I really don't know.”

“Put your coat on,” he said. “You're getting soaked.”

“Like you care.” Even so, she put it on.

He watched her as she wrestled with the sleeves. When she had finished doing up the buttons he cleared his throat again. “Well, whatever your reasons might have been,” he began, “I suppose I need to th—”

“Don't,” she said. “Don't. I don't want to hear it. Not from you.”

He frowned. “But—”

“I did it without thinking and if you want to know the truth, I've regretted it ever since, whenever I've seen your hideous, lying leaflets on the streets, or passed those stages where your actors do your lying for you. So don't thank me, Mr. Mandrake.” She shivered; the rain had steadily intensified. “If you
must
thank someone, make it Bartimaeus. He's the one who prompted me to save your life.”

Even in the dark she could see it startled him. His posture stiffened, his voice grew brittle. “
He
prompted you? I find that hard to credit.”

“Why? Because he's a demon? Yeah, I know. Doesn't make much sense. But he told me how to stop the golem, he called me back when I would have run. Without him you'd be dead. But don't let that bother you. He's just a slave.”

The magician was silent for a time. Then he said, “I had been meaning to ask you about Bartimaeus. For some reason he regards you with affection. Why is that?”

Kitty's laugh was genuine. “There is
no
affection between us.”

“No? Why then did he tell me you were dead? He said the golem killed you. That is why I have not searched for you in all these years.”

“He said that? I didn't know.…” Kitty looked out over the black river. “Well,” she said, “perhaps it was because I treated him with some respect! Perhaps because I didn't enslave him, perhaps because I didn't seek to keep him in service for year after year without a break till his essence wore away!” She bit her lip, and looked quickly at the magician.

His eyes were hidden in a strip of darkness. “And
what,
” he said very quietly, “can you possibly know about
that
? You haven't seen Bartimaeus for years.
Have
you?”

Kitty edged back toward the river wall. The magician stepped toward her—

A sudden hissing in midair; raindrops fizzed and steamed on something materializing above the water. A small orb, pink and shiny. Music sounded as of an orchestra far way. Mandrake drew back; he uttered a quiet curse.

A faint round face, disrupted by crackles of static, appeared in the orb. A voice issued forth, similarly disrupted. “John! I've found you! You are late! Even now the musicians are warming up! Come quickly!”

The magician gave a little bow. “Quentin. My apologies. I have been delayed.”

“No time to waste!”The face seemed to fix on Kitty for a moment. “Bring your girlfriend too. I shall save a seat. Ten minutes, John. Ten minutes!”

The orb fizzed, blurred, vanished. Dark rain fell uninterrupted into the Thames.

Kitty and Mandrake stared at each other. “It seems,” the magician said slowly, “that we shall have to continue this conversation later. Do you like the theater, Ms. Jones?”

Kitty pursed her lips. “Not much.”

“Nor me.” He made an elegant gesture up toward the road. “We shall have to suffer together.”

19

O
ur raid on the Ambassador Hotel was planned with military precision and the utmost care. Just ten minutes' bickering in a phone box and we had the plan set straight.

After leaving our master we'd flown speedily across London in the guise of starlings, crossing above the park where so recently I'd had my misadventure. The Glass Palace, the pagoda, the ill-omened lake—all glinted dourly in the last light of evening. Most of the illuminations were off; the normal crowds were absent, though small pockets of commoners moved here and there with unknown purpose across the grass. I saw police cordons, hurrying imps, an unusual amount of activity … then we were over the streets of St. James, and circling down to the hotel.

It was an upmarket affair, a slender gray-stone house set among the embassies and gentlemen's clubs; a place both sophisticated and discreet, where foreign diplomats and princelings might rest their wallets while in town. It did not look the kind of hotel to welcome an invasion of five ragtag djinn, particularly ones as unsavory as Hodge. We saw hexes shimmering in the windows and a lattice of thin nodes upon the fire escape. The doorman, resplendent in lime-green livery, had the sharp-eyed look of someone wearing lenses. Caution was required. We couldn't just stroll in.

The phone box was right opposite. One by one, five starlings flew down behind it. One by one, five rats hopped through a hole inside. Mwamba used her tail to brush away the worst of the cigarette butts, and we began our solemn conclave.

“Right, troops,” I said brightly. “Here's what I suggest—”

A one-eyed rat held up a paw of protest. “Just a moment, Bartimaeus,” it said. “What makes
you
the leader all of a sudden?”

“You want the full inventory of my talents? Remember we have to capture Hopkins sometime this evening.”

“If hot air counted for anything, Bartimaeus, we'd follow you with pleasure.” This was Cormocodran. His basalt-thick voice boomed about the phone box; the vibrations made my whiskers ripple. “Unfortunately, you're old and tired and useless.”

“We heard about your adventures as a mighty
frog
” Hodge added, chuckling. “Relying on the master to save you, scattering your essence like rain across the city.”

“It's hardly his
fault
, though, is it?” Mwamba put in sympathetically. Of all the rats, she was the most elegant and convincing. Ascobol had one eye, Hodge had a row of poison spines amongst his bristles, and Cormocodran, as always, looked more like a small, brick outhouse than anything else. As for me, my essence was playing me up again; there were some hazy patches around my extremities, although I hoped they were too small for anyone to notice.

“Maybe not, but he's a liability on a job like this,” Ascobol said. “Look at his outline now. All fuzzy.”

“He'll slow us up. He was lagging when we flew.”

“Yeah, and he'd be terrible in a fight.”

“Probably subside into a custard.”
¹

“Well, you won't catch
me
scooping him up.”

“Nor me. We're not on babysitting duty here.”

“Your high opinion of my powers notwithstanding,” I growled, “I'm the only one who's actually
seen
Hopkins. Go on without me if you want. See how far you get.”

“He's getting huffy now,” Hodge said in contemplative tones. “Ego like a balloon. Watch out! It's going to pop!”

Mwamba batted her tail irritably against the floor. “We're wasting time. Bartimaeus may be decrepit, but we need his advice before we start.” She smiled as sweetly as a sewer rat can smile. “
Please
go on, Bartimaeus. Tell us what you saw.”

You know me. I'm not one to hold grudges.
²
I gave a careless shrug. “In truth, it isn't much. I saw Hopkins, but only briefly. Whether he's a magician or not, I can't say. I assume so. Certainly
someone
used a gang of foliots and djinn to chase me off.”

“Just a thought, this,” Mwamba said. “You're sure he's human?”

“Hopkins? Yep, I checked him out on all seven planes. Human on each one. If we can catch him by surprise, we should be able to hold him.”

“Oh, I'll hold him,” Hodge said in a dark, exulting voice. “Don't you worry about that. I've got a snug place waiting for him, a place where ropes and shackles won't be needed. A place right here …
under
my
skin
.” He sniggered lovingly; the sound faded.

The other four rats looked at each other.

Ascobol said, “I think we'll stick to plain old ropes, Hodge. Thanks for the offer. Right, to continue, we know Hopkins stays here. Any idea which room?”

I shrugged. “Not a clue.”

“We'll have to check the book at reception. What then?”

Cormocodran shifted his hairy bulk. “We rampage upstairs, break down the door, beat Hopkins to a pulp, and spirit him away. Simple, efficient, satisfying. Next question.”

I shook my head. “Tactically brilliant, but Hopkins might be alerted as we stomp upon the stairs. We must be subtle here.”

Cormocodran frowned. “I'm not sure I do subtle.”

“Besides,” Mwamba said, “Hopkins may not yet have returned. We need to get to his room quietly and see. If he's away, we lurk within.”

I nodded. “Disguises are necessary, and in Hodge's case an additional bath and fumigation. Humans have a sense of smell, you know.”

The rat in question stirred indignantly, rattling his poison spines. “Step this way, Bartimaeus. I wish to taste your essence.”

“Oh, yes? Think you can take me?”

“Nothing would be easier or more welcome.”

For some while the argument proceeded, scintillating in its wit, verve, and skillful repartee,
³
but before I could rout my opponent with a final devastating proof, a bloke came in to use the phone box, and the rats turned tail and scattered.

*  *  *

Twenty minutes passed. At the entrance to the Ambassador Hotel the doorman paced rhythmically from side to side and clapped his hands together to keep warm. A group of guests approached, a woman and three men, all beautifully attired in suits of Silk Road cloth. They spoke quietly together in an Arabic tongue; the woman wore jewels of moonstone at her throat. Each gave off reassuring emanations of wealth, dignity, and social poise.
⁴
The doorman stepped back, saluted. The four acknowledged him with nods and gracious smiles.They passed up the steps and into the hotel foyer.

A young woman sat smiling behind a mahogany desk. “Can I help you?”

The most handsome of the men approached. “Good evening. We are from the Embassy of the Kingdom of Sheba. We have a royal party arriving in a few weeks, and wish to inspect your premises with a view to hiring rooms.”

“Certainly, sir. Would you care to follow me? I will find the manager.”

The receptionist rose from her desk and padded on light feet down a corridor. The four Sheban diplomats followed; as they did so, one opened a clenched fist. A small but unpleasant insect rose out, all legs, spines, and sulphurous odors, and flew on whirring wings to the vacated desk, where it proceeded to scan the register.