Ptolemy's Gate (36 page)

I had been put through considerable trials, but my essence was strong, and I did not resent it. In truth, my master's researches—his desire to establish parity between djinni and human—had touched me, despite my skepticism. I dared to hope that something might come of it. Even so, I feared for him. He was altogether unworldly, insensible to perils all around.

One night, during our occupation of the hill country, a bubble materialized inside my tent. Ptolemy's face showed in the glassy surface, faint and far away.

“Greetings, Rekhyt. I hear congratulations are in order. Word of your successes has reached the city.”

I bowed. “Is your cousin chuffed?”

My master seemed to sigh. “Unfortunately the people proclaim this as
my
victory. Despite my protestations, they cheer my name to the rooftops. My cousin is not pleased.”

“This is unsurprising. You must—What's that on your chin? Is that a scar?”

“It is nothing. An archer fired on me in the street. Penrenutet flung me aside and all is well.”

“I'm coming back.”

“Not yet. I need another week to complete the work. Return in seven days. In the meantime, go where you wish.”

I stared at the face. “Really?”

“You're always moaning about the limitations of free will. Now's your chance to experience it. I'm sure you can tolerate the pain of this Earth for a little longer. Do what you want. See you in seven days.” The bubble became a vapor and was gone.

This invitation was so unexpected that for some minutes I could only wander aimlessly around the tent, rearranging the cushions and looking at my reflection in the polished brasses. Then the full import of his words struck me. I stepped outside, took a last look around the camp and, with a cry, launched myself into the air.

Seven days passed. I returned to Alexandria. My master stood in his workroom, wearing a white tunic without sandals. His face was thinner than before, his eye sockets gray with tiredness, but he greeted me with his old enthusiasm.

“Right on time!” he said. “How was the world?”

“It is broad and beautiful, though there is too much water in it. In the east mountains rise to the stars, to the south forests swallow the land. The architecture of the Earth is infinitely varied; it has given me much to think about.”

“Some day I shall see it too. And humans? What of them?”

“They erupt in isolated patches, like pimples on a bottom. Most do without magic, I believe.”

Ptolemy grinned. “Your insights are profound. Now it is my turn.” He led me to a door and showed me into a quiet inner chamber. The floor was covered with a circle—larger than average—decorated with hieroglyphs and runes. Beside it, on the floor, were herbs, charms, piles of papyrus and wax tablets, all covered in my master's scrawl. He gave me a tired smile. “What do you think?”

I was busy scanning the pentacle's barriers and word chains. “Nothing special here. Fairly standard issue.”

“I know. I tried all kinds of complex reinforcements and hexes, Rekhyt, but it just felt wrong. Then it occurred to me: all our normal safeguards are there to
restrict
movement—you know, keep the djinni out, keep us secure. I want the opposite effect; I want to be able to move freely. So if I do
this
”—with a deliberate toe, he smudged the cochineal line that marked the perimeter of the circle—“that should allow my spirit to depart. Through that little hole. My body shall remain here.”

I frowned. “Why use the pentacle at all?”

“Aha. Good point. According to our friend Affa, the shamans of distant regions, who converse with djinn on the borders of our realms, speak certain words and leave their bodies at will. They do not use circles. But
they
are not trying to pass through the boundaries between our worlds—those elemental walls you have told me so much about. And I
am.
I think that, just as the circle's power pulls you directly to me when I summon you, so the same circle can propel me in the opposite direction, through the walls, when the words are reversed. It is a focusing mechanism. You understand?”

I scratched my chin. “Erm … Sorry, what did Affa say again?”

My master raised his eyes to the heavens. “It doesn't matter. But
this
bit does. I think I can reverse the normal summons easily enough, but if a gate
does
open up, I need something on the other side to guide me safely through. Something that provides a destination.”

“That's a problem,” I said. “There are no ‘destinations' in the Other Place. No mountains, no forests. I've told you that countless times.”

“I know. That's where you come in.” The boy was crouching on the floor, rummaging through a pile of the usual magical paraphernalia that every Egyptian magician accumulated: scarabs, mummified rodents, novelty pyramids, the lot. He held up a small ankh
⁴
and thrust it in my direction. “Think this is iron?”

A waft of essence-stinging cold; I leaned back irritably. “Yep. Stop waving it about.”

“Good. I'll keep this on my body for protection. Just in case any imps come calling while I'm gone. Now, back to you. Rekhyt, I thank you for all the services you have done me; I am in your debt. In a moment I shall dismiss you. Your obligation to me, such as it is, will be at an end.”

I bowed in the customary way. “My thanks, master.”

He waved his hand. “Forget that master business now. When you are in the Other Place, listen out for your name—your
true
one, I mean.
⁵
When I have finished my incantation, I shall call your name three times. If you wish, you may answer me: I believe that will be enough to provide the destination that I need. I shall pass through the gate to you.”

I looked dubious in that way I have. “You reckon?”

“I do. “The boy smiled at me. “Rekhyt, if you are sick of the sight of me after all this time, the solution is simple. Do not respond to my call.”

“It's up to me?”

“Of course. The Other Place is your domain. If you
do
see fit to call me over, I shall be most honored.” His face was flushed with excitement, his pupils dilated like a cat's; in his mind he was already tasting the wonders of the other side. I watched his movements as he went over to a bowl beside the window. It contained water. He washed his face and neck.

“Your theories are all very well,” I ventured, “but have they told you what will happen to your body if you pass across? You are not a creature of essence.”

He dried himself on a cloth, looking out over the rooftops, where the commotion and bustle of midday hung like an invisible pall upon the city. “Sometimes,” he murmured, “I feel I am not a creature of Earth, either. All my life has been shut away in libraries, never experiencing the sensations of the world. When I come back, Rekhyt, I shall wander afar like you have done….” He turned and stretched his thin brown arms. “You are right, of course: I don't know what will happen. Perhaps I will suffer for it. But it is worth the risk, I think, to see what no other man has seen!” He stepped across and closed the shutters on the window, shrouding us both in dim, pale light. Next he locked the chamber door.

“Perhaps,” I said, “you will find yourself in my power, when we meet again.”

“Very likely.”

“Yet you trust me?”

Ptolemy laughed. “What else have I been doing all this time? When did I last bind you within a pentacle? Look at you now—you're as free as I am. You could throttle me in a blink and be gone.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I hadn't thought of that.

The boy clapped his hands. “Well, the time has come. Penrenutet and Affa are already dismissed; I have no obligations left. So—it is your turn. If you want to hop into the pentacle, I'll set you free.”

“What of your own security?” I glanced around the darkened room. Slats of light from the shutters ran like claw marks across wall and floor. “With us departed, you're helpless if your enemies find you.”

“Penrenutet's last task was to take my guise and ride south along the old highway. He let himself be seen. The spies will be following his caravan. So you see, dear Rekhyt, I have thought of everything.” He motioned to me. I stepped into the circle.

“You know, you don't
need
to risk yourself in this experiment,” I said. I was looking at his narrow shoulders, his scrawny neck, the skinny legs sticking out beneath his tunic.

“It's not an experiment,” he said. “It's a gesture. It's redress.”

“For what? Three thousand years of slavery? Why take the burden of so many crimes? No other magicians have ever thought this way.”

He smiled. “That's just it. I'm the first. And if my venture goes well, and I return to record it, many others will follow after me. There will be a new era between djinn and men. I've made some of the notes already, Rekhyt—my book will take pride of place in every library on the Earth. I won't be there to see it—but who knows, perhaps
you
will.”

His passion won me over. I nodded. “Let's hope you're right.”

He didn't answer, only snapped his fingers and spoke the Dismissal. The last thing I saw as I departed was his face gazing after me, confident, serene.

22

K
itty woke to a light that blinded her and a sharp pain in her side. As the seconds passed, and she lay quite still, she became aware of the blood pounding in her head and the dryness of her open mouth. Her wrists ached. There was a terrible smell of burned cloth and a tight pressure around one hand.

Panic swelled inside her chest; she wrenched at her limbs, opened her eyes, sought to lift her head. She was rewarded with scattershot pain and certain insights into her situation: her wrists were tied, she sat against something hard, someone was crouched beside her, looking into her face.The pressure on one hand was suddenly released.

A voice. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

Kitty opened one eye a fraction. A dark shape swam into focus. The magician, Mandrake, bent close; he wore a look of concern mixed with relief. “Can you speak?” he said. “How do you feel?”

Kitty's voice was weak. “Were you holding my hand?”

“No.”

“Good.” She was acclimatizing to the light now; both eyes opened steadily and she looked about her. She sat on the floor at the edge of a great stone room, older and grander than anything she had experienced. Thick pillars supported a vaulted ceiling; on the floor, beautiful rugs were spread upon the flagstones. Around the walls, in many recesses, stood statues of regal men and women dressed in bygone costumes. Magical globes drifted against the vaulting, creating an ever-changing pattern of light and shadow. In the center of the room sat a brightly polished table and seven chairs.

On the near side of the table a man was walking up and down.

Kitty struggled to shift her position, an operation made difficult by the cords binding her wrists. Something dug into her back. She cursed. “Ah! Can you—?”

Mandrake held up his hands, bound tightly together with the fingers swathed in thin white cord. “Try wriggling to the left. You're leaning against a stone shoe at the moment. Careful—you've been badly knocked about.”

Kitty shifted her bottom sideways and became marginally more comfortable. She looked down at herself. One side of her coat was blackened and burned away; she could see tattered fragments of her shirt beneath and, hanging loose in an inner pocket, a singed corner of Mr. Button's book. Her brow furrowed. How had—?

The theater! In a rush, she remembered: the explosions in the box opposite, the raising of the lights, the sea of demons in the stalls below. Yes, and Mandrake next to her, pale and frightened, with the fat little man holding the knife to his throat. She had tried—

“I'm glad you're alive,” the magician said. His face was gray, but his voice was calm. There was dried blood on his neck. “That's impressive resilience you've got there. Can you see through illusions too?”

She shook her head irritably. “Where are we? What's—?”

“The Hall of Statues at Westminster. This is the room where the Council meets.”

“But what's happened? Why are we here?” Panic engulfed her; she pulled frantically at her bonds.

“Calm down … we're being watched.” He jerked his head toward the figure by the table. It was someone Kitty didn't know, a young man with long, bandy legs, still pacing back and forth.

“Calm down?”
Kitty gave a strangled cry of fury. “How
dare
you? If I was free—”

“Yes, but you're not. And nor am I. So shut up for a minute and let me tell you what's happened.” He leaned in close. “The whole government was taken captive in that theater. Everyone. Makepeace used a host of demons to subdue them.”

“I've got eyes, haven't I? I saw all that.”