Ptolemy's Gate (41 page)

Faquarl grinned. “Bartimaeus's master, I believe.”

Shouts, screams … Sure enough, with the incompetence that was his trademark, Mandrake hadn't reached the door. Instead he and Kitty had been apprehended by the body of Jenkins, which was beginning to move with some coordination. Evidently the spirit inside it was a fast learner.

Nouda's voice held interest. “Bring him here.”

It took a while; Jenkins's legs were not yet bending at the knees. But finally two disheveled humans stood before the golden chair, Jenkins's hands around their necks. Both Mandrake and Kitty looked haggard and defeated. Their shoulders slumped, their clothes were ripped; Kitty's coat had been burned right through. Unnoticed, the pyramid of slime gave a small, short sigh.

Nouda experimented with a ghastly, half-baked smile; he twitched and wriggled excitedly where he sat. “Meat! I smell it! What a blissful flavor.”

A light of defiance glimmered in Mandrake's eyes. “Bartimaeus,” he croaked, “I am still your master. I order you to help us now.”

Faquarl and Nouda laughed heartily at this; I did not. “That time is past,” I said. “You would do well to keep silent.”

“I order you—”

A deep feminine voice emerged from Jenkins's mouth. “Is that
you
, Bartimaeus?”

The slime gave a start. “Naeryan! Haven't seen you since Constantinople!”

“Listen
to me! I order—”

“What's with the slime, Bartimaeus? You're looking peaky.”

“Yeah, been better. How about you, though? Ginger hair, glasses, just two legs … bit of a comedown, isn't it?”
⁶

“I order you to … to …” Mandrake's head dropped. He said no more.

“It's worth it, Bartimaeus!” Naeryan said. “You can't imagine what it's like. The body is dreary, but it gives such freedom! Will you join us?”

“Yes!” Nouda's great voice put in. “Join us! We shall find you an appropriate magician. We will force him to summon you forthwith.”

The slime drew itself as tall as it could. “My thanks to you both. The offer is courteous and kind. But I fear I must decline. I have had enough of this world, and everything in it. My essence hurts me; my only wish is to return to the peace of the Other Place as fast as I can.”

Nouda seemed a little put out. “This is an odd decision.”

Faquarl spoke eagerly. “It is as I said—Bartimaeus is both fickle and perverse! He should be destroyed with a Spasm!”

A great growl came from Makepeace's throat; the air quivered with heat haze. The clothes on Faquarl's body crackled into flame. Nouda sucked the air back in. The flames went out. Makepeace's eyes glittered.
⁷
“Beware, Faquarl,” the great voice said, “lest your good advice becomes officious.The djinni is free to go.”

The slime bowed. “My gratitude is undying, Lord Nouda. If it pleases you to hear me further, I have one last request to make.”

“On this triumphant day,” Nouda said, “when my earthly reign begins, I shall grant the wishes of even the weakest, most insignificant of my fellow spirits. And that's you, without a doubt. I shall permit your request, if it lies within my power. Speak on.”

The slime bowed lower still. “Spare the lives of these two humans, Lord Nouda. The world, as you say, is big. There are many others to devour. Spare these.”

That got a bit of a reaction. Faquarl gave a snort of disgust, Naeryan tutted with surprise. As for Nouda, he clashed his teeth together with such force that several cherubs fell off his chair. His eyes flashed fire, his fingers gouged the tabletop like butter. I'd say he wasn't overly pleased. “I have given my word, djinni, and I cannot break it,” the great voice said. “But this is ill done. I need some ballast in my belly. I was looking forward to these two, particularly the girl. The boy looks sour and sinewy—I believe his flesh would taste like candle wax—but she is edible beyond doubt. And you would have me spare them! It seems that Faquarl was right.You
are
perverse.”

That was pretty rich coming from someone who had purposefully trapped himself within the human world, but I didn't argue. I just bowed lower.

“Tcha!” Nouda was working himself into a strop; with sudden rough coordination, Makepeace's body half rose from his seat. “To have a bond with a human … Ah, you are a corruption! A traitor! I itch to destroy you…. But no, I cannot break my promise. Go from here! Be gone from my sight!”

I did not show my anger. “We
do
have a bond of sorts,” I said quietly, “but for the present there are limits to it. Which is why I take my leave.” The pyramid of slime rotated to face Mandrake, who had been listening, white-faced. “Dismiss me.”

It took him several seconds to respond, and only then when Kitty nudged him sharply. When he spoke, he stumbled three times and had to begin again. His voice never rose above a whisper; he did not look in my direction. By contrast—as I rose, flickered, faded, vanished—Kitty never took her eyes off me.

My last sight was of them cowering together, two hunched and fragile forms, alone among the djinn. What did I feel? Nothing. I'd done what I could. Nouda's word was his bond; he would spare their lives. Beyond that, it wasn't my business what happened to them. I was getting out, and about time too. I was lucky to escape with my life.

Yes, I'd done what I could. I didn't need to think about it any more. I was free.

Free.

Look, even at full strength I'd
still
have been a speck of insignificance compared to Nouda. What else could I have done?

25

F
or Kitty, the moments following Bartimaeus's departure were the bleakest and most terrible of all. The last fragment of hope departed, and with it, the focus of her captors immediately changed. Hopkins's head turned; in the golden chair, the glassy eyes of Makepeace rolled around to stare at her. She felt the ferocity of the demons' gazes, of the cold intelligences hidden behind the waxy faces. She knew what it was to be a lump of meat upon a butcher's slab.

The great demon seemed to be gaining control of his human body—its twitches and shaking had diminished; it sprawled quietly across the chair. Elsewhere in the room, by a similar gradual process, the bodies of the conspirators had risen to their feet, and in a spirit of experimentation were hobbling about the room in little jerks and scampers. Their arms swung, they jumped, crouched, spun on the spot. Their mouths were open: the room was full of the gabble of languages, of triumphant laughter, and animal cries. Kitty shuddered; it was a parody both of everything that was human
and
of the dignity she had previously observed in spirits—even the most grotesque.

At her back the demon in Jenkins's body spoke. She did not understand the words. Hopkins nodded, replied, turned to the great demon sitting in the chair. A long conversation ensued. Kitty and Mandrake stood dead still, waiting.

Then Hopkins's body moved; the suddenness made Kitty jolt with fear. It turned to them and beckoned. With stiff movements and rigid limbs they followed it across the hall, among the gamboling demons, past the bearded man crouching silently in a corner, and out into the corridor. They took the passage to the left, around numerous twists and turns, above a broad stone staircase leading underground, into an area of many doors. Kitty thought to hear moaning coming from behind the first they passed. The demon continued on; in due course he halted, flung open a door, and gestured for them to enter. It was an empty, windowless room, lit by a single electric light.

The demon's voice was harsh. “Thanks to Lord Nouda's unbreakable oath, we are obliged to be merciful. You”—it indicated Kitty—“are not a magician, so you shall become an ordinary servant. However,
you
”—this to Mandrake—“are due a greater honor. You shall become a host to one of our number before dawn. Do not look so glum. Think of all the spirits you have enslaved! This judgment upon you has a pleasant symmetry. Until then you shall remain here. It is not seemly for you to observe us in our current state.” The door closed, a key turned. Footsteps receded.

Kitty could feel her body shaking with suppressed shock and fear. She bit her lip, forced the feeling down. No good—they hadn't time for that. She looked at Mandrake, and to her surprise saw flecks of tears in the corners of his eyes. Perhaps, like her, he was almost overwhelmed. He was speaking quietly, as if to himself: “Demons have entered the world … without restraint. It is a catastrophe….”

No. They hadn't
time
for that. “A catastrophe?” she said. “Funny, the way I see it, things are looking up.”

“How can you say—?”

“The demons plan to use me as a slave. Not good, true. But half an hour ago your friend the fat magician was going to have me
killed.
I look on that as a marked improvement.”

John Mandrake blew out his cheeks. “Makepeace was
not
my friend. He was insane, a reckless, arrogant madman. And I wouldn't get too optimistic,” he went on dully. “
Nouda
may have promised not to kill you, but that doesn't mean one of the others won't. I'm surprised they haven't spotted that. It's the kind of ambiguity they normally pounce on. Yes, they'll eat you soon enough, take it from me.”

Icy fury surged through Kitty; she stepped forward and slapped Mandrake hard. He reeled back in shock, clutching his face. “What was
that
for?”

“What
for
?” Kitty shouted. “For everything! For abducting me, for getting me into this mess! For being a member of the stupid government! For the war! For being a magician! For enslaving demons and spurring them to invade our world! For being a complete and utter idiot!” She took a breath. “
And
for what you just said. For being defeatist now. Especially that. I
don't intend
to die.”

She halted, but kept him speared squarely on her gaze. He blinked, ran a hand through his stubbled hair, looked away, looked back at her. She stared at him.

“All right,” he said. “I'm sorry. Sorry for what I've done to you—for what I did before, and now. I should have left you alone. I regret I've got you into this. But what's the point of saying it? It's all irrelevant. The demons are loosed upon the world and we're powerless to stop them, so whether you're here or back in that pub won't make much difference in the long run.”

Kitty shook her head. “You're wrong. Your apology isn't irrelevant and you're a fool if you can't see it. I'm grateful that you stopped Makepeace from having me killed. Now stop being such a wet blanket and try to think of something to do.”

He looked at her. “Hold on—was there a thanks buried in that pile of invective?”

She pursed her lips. “If so, it was a very small one. Now—you're a magician. But you've not got any slaves to hand? Not even any imps?”

“No. All my slaves are dead. Except Bartimaeus. And
he
left us.”

“He
saved our lives.”

Mandrake sighed. “Yes.” He looked at Kitty intently. “And I don't think he did it for
me.
Why—?” His eyes widened suddenly. “Hold on, I
do
have this.” He fished in his jacket and produced a metal disc. “You might recall it.”

Kitty's heart, having leaped with hope, descended leadenly. “Oh. Your scrying glass.”

“Yes. The imp within can observe and speak to third parties, but it cannot act. It cannot free us, or the other magicians—” He broke off, thinking hard.

“Observation might be useful …” Kitty couldn't hide her doubt. “Providing you can trust what it says. It's a slave. Why should it speak truthfully after all its ill treatment?”

“Compared to most, I am a kind and sensitive master. I never—” He made an impatient noise. “Oh, this is ridiculous. Bickering will get us nowhere. Let's see what the demons are doing.”

He raised the disc and waved a hand across its surface. Kitty moved closer, fascinated despite herself. The polished bronze surface seemed to ripple; a round shape formed, hazy and remote, as if deep down underwater. It swelled, drew close, became a sweet little baby's face, contorted into an expression of the purest woe.

“Not again, master!” the baby whimpered. “I beg you! Do not punish me again with the cruel Stipples or the Infernal Coals! I will do my best, I swear! Ah, but I must accept your harsh justice, your stern discipline. What choice have I, alas … ?” It finished with a pathetic, lingering sniffle.

Mandrake glanced furtively at Kitty. “So …” she said grimly. “‘A kind and sensitive master …"'

“Ah! No! He exaggerates! He excels in melodrama!”

“That poor, innocent little babe—”

“Do not be misled. He is a hellish, vile—oh, what's the use? Imp! In a hall close to here you will find several potent entities, masquerading in the bodies of men and women. What are they doing? Observe and do not linger, or they will seize you and place you on a griddle. Next, and still within this building, locate the government magicians. Are they alive or dead? What condition are they in? Could we communicate with them? Finally observe the situation on the Whitehall streets. Are government forces anywhere to be seen? That is enough. Be off with you.”