Bartimaeus: The Golem’s Eye (41 page)

She frowned. “It sounds a pretty ropy excuse to me. You’re saying all your evil is performed unwillingly?”

“I wouldn’t put it
quite
like that, but—yup. From imp to afrit, we’re all bound to the magicians’will. We can’t do anything about it. They have us over a barrel. At the moment, for instance, I have to help and protect Mandrake, whether I like it or not.”

“Pathetic.” She spoke decisively. “Absolutely pathetic.” And indeed, as I heard myself say all this, it did seem so to me, too. We slaves have dwelled so long in these chains of ours that we rarely speak of them;
⁹
to hear the resignation in my own voice sickened my essence to its core. I tried to batten down my shame with a spot of righteous indignation.

“Oh, we fight back,” I said. “We catch them out if they’re careless, and misinterpret when we can. We encourage them to vie with one another, and set them at one another’s throats. We load them with luxuries until their bodies grow fat and their minds too dull to notice their own downfalls. We do our best. Which is more than you
humans
manage to do most of the time.”

At this, the girl uttered a strange, ragged laugh. “What do you think I’ve been
trying
to do all these years? Sabotaging government, stealing artifacts, disrupting the city—it’s been hopeless, the whole thing. I might as well have been a secretary, like my mother wanted. My friends have been killed or corrupted and demons like
you
have done it all. And don’t tell me you don’t enjoy it. That thing in the crypt loved every second of…” Her body gave a violent shudder; she broke off, rubbed her eyes.

“Well, there
are
exceptions,” I began—then desisted.

As if a thin barrier had been broached, the girl’s shoulders shook and she suddenly began to cry with great spasms of pent-up grief. She did so silently, stifling the noise with her fist, as if to save me embarrassment. I didn’t know what to say. It was all very awkward. She went on a long time. I sat myself cross-legged a little way off, turned respectfully away from her and gazed off into the shadows.

Where
was
the boy? Come on, come on. He was taking his time.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
Try as I might to ignore them, her words gnawed away at me in the still of the night.

42

K
itty gathered herself at last. The last ructions of despair subsided. She sighed heavily. The ruined building was dark, save for the small area near the roof where the magical light glowed faintly. Its radiance had dimmed. The demon sat close by, still wearing the form of a dark-skinned youth clad in a wrapped skirt. Its face was turned aside, the light casting angular shadows on its thin neck and hunched bare shoulders. It looked oddly frail.

“If it’s any consolation,” the demon said, “I destroyed that afrit from the crypt.” It did not turn around.

Kitty coughed and straightened her back, smoothing her hair out of her eyes. She did not reply at once. The despairing hopelessness that had overcome her when the demon plucked her into the sky had subsided now, washed away by the sudden out-welling of grief for her lost friends. She was left feeling hollow and light-headed. Even so, she tried to gather her thoughts.

Escape. She
could
try to escape…. No, there was Jakob to consider, she should wait for him. if he was actually coming…. She scowled: she had only the demon’s word for that. Perhaps it
was
better to flee…. She craned her head from side to side, seeking inspiration. “You killed it …?” she said absently. “How?” There was a stairwell close by; they were on the first floor, then. Most of the windows were boarded up.

“Dropped him in the Thames. He was quite mad, you know, after so long. He’d bound his essence into Gladstone’s bones. Wouldn’t—or couldn’t—get himself free. A sad business, but there you go. He was a menace to everything—djinni or human—and is best trapped under hundreds of meters of water.”

“Yes, quite …” There looked to be a broken window not far off; perhaps she could leap from it. The demon might attack with some magic as she ran, but her resilience would see her through. Then she could drop to the street, seek cover—

“I hope you’re not thinking of doing anything rash,” the boy said suddenly.

She started guiltily. “No.”

“You’re thinking of doing
something;
I can hear it in your voice. Well, don’t. I won’t bother using a magical attack. I’ve been around, you know. I’m well aware of your defenses. I’ve seen it all before. I’ll just lob a brick at you.”

Kitty chewed her lip. Reluctantly, and only for the moment, she dismissed escape from her mind. “What do you mean, seen it before?” she said. “You’re talking about the alley?”

The boy flashed a look at her over his shoulder. “Well, there was that, of course—your chums withstood a fairly high-intensity Inferno from me head on. But I mean further back, long before London’s precious little magicians started getting above themselves. Time and again, I’ve seen it. It always happens sooner or later. You know, considering what’s at stake you’d think that wretched Mandrake would make a bit of an effort to get here, wouldn’t you? We’ve been here an hour already.”

Kitty’s brow furrowed. “You mean you’ve seen people like me before?”

“Of course! A dozen times over. Huh, I suppose the magicians don’t let you read the history books—it’s no wonder you’re so powerful ignorant.” The demon shuffled around on his bottom to face her. “How do you think Carthage fell? Or Persia? Or Rome? Sure, there were enemy states ready to take advantage of the empires’ weaknesses, but it was the divisions
within
that really did for them. Romulus Augustulus, for instance, spent half his reign trying to control his own people, and all the while Ostrogoths with big mustaches were tramping down through Italy. His djinn couldn’t control the plebs any longer, you see. Why? Because so many of them had become like you—resilient to our magic. Detonations, Fluxes, Infernos—scarcely singed their beards. And of course the people
knew
that, so they wanted their rights, they wanted the magicians overthrown at last. There was so much confusion that hardly anyone noticed the barbarian horde before it ransacked Rome.” The boy scratched its nose. “In a way, I think it came as a relief. Fresh start and all that. No more magicians in the Eternal City for a long, long time.”

Kitty blinked. Her knowledge of history was scanty, and the strange names and places meant little to her, but the implications were startlingly clear. “Are you saying that most of the Romans were resilient to magic?”

“Oh, no. About thirty percent, maybe. In varying degrees, of course. You don’t need more than that for a good uprising.”

“But we never managed more than eleven! And London’s huge!”

“Eleven percent? That’s not too bad.”

“No. Eleven. That was it.”

The boy raised his eyebrows. “Blimey, your recruitment policy can’t have been too snappy. But then again, it’s early days. How long is it since Gladstone set up shop? Hundred and fifty years or so? Well, that’s your answer. Resilience to magic takes a long time to build up in the general population. Magicians had ruled in Rome for five hundred years before the revolutions came. That’s an awful lot of magic seeping through the city. Gradually more and more children are born with talents of one sort or another. What else can
you
do, for instance? See us?”

“No.” Kitty made a face. “Anne and Fred could do that. I’m just … good at surviving.”

The boy grinned. “That’s no mean talent. Don’t knock it.”

“Stanley could see magic
in stuff
as well—that’s how we knew you had that necklace.”

“What? Oh, the Amulet. Yep, that kind of sight’s another one. Well, there are probably all sorts of abilities bubbling up in London’s population right now. Must be hundreds of people with the power. But you’ve got to remember, most people won’t be aware they’ve got an ability at all. It takes time for the knowledge to spread. How did you find out?”

It was all Kitty could do to remember that this slight, polite, and very informative boy was actually a demon, something to be loathed and shunned. She opened her mouth to speak and hesitated. The boy rolled its eyes in annoyance and raised its hands. “Look, don’t think I’m going to tell anyone this, least of all my master. I don’t owe him anything. Still, far be it from me to force it out of you. I’m not a magician.” It sounded rather huffy.

“A demon hit me with a Black Tumbler.” Her small confidence took Kitty rather by surprise; she found herself saying it without thinking.

“Oh, yes. Tallow’s monkey. I forgot.” The boy stretched lazily. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know Tallow’s dead now. An afrit got him. Quite stylishly, too. No—I won’t give you the details. Not unless you tell me more about you. What happened after the Tumbler?” And Kitty, despite herself, was soon recounting her story.

At the finish, the demon shrugged ruefully. “You see, the problem with this Pennyfeather was that he was too much like the magicians, wasn’t he? Greedy, close, and clasping. Wanted to keep everything nice and secret, all for himself. Small wonder you had only eleven members. If you want to get a revolution going, my tip is to get the people on your side. All those explosions and thefts were never going to get you anywhere.”

Kitty scowled. The demon’s blithe assurance on the matter rankled. “I suppose not.”

“ ’Course they weren’t. Education’s the thing. Knowledge of the past. That’s why the magicians give you such ropy schooling. I bet you had endless triumphal stuff about why Britain’s so great.” He chuckled. “The funny thing is, the people’s growing resilience always comes as a surprise to the magicians, too. Each empire thinks it’s different, thinks it won’t happen to them. They forget the lessons of the past, even recent lessons. Gladstone only got to Prague so fast because half the Czech army was on strike at the time. It seriously weakened the Empire. But my master and his friends have already forgotten this fact. He hadn’t a clue why you escaped his mouler the other day. Incidentally, he really
is
taking ages to bring Hyrnek across. I’m beginning to think something might have happened to him. Nothing fatal, unfortunately, or I wouldn’t still be here.”

Jakob. Kitty had been so caught up in the demon’s words that the thought of her friend had half escaped her mind. She flushed. This was the
enemy
she was talking with—a killer, an abductor, an inhuman fiend. How could she have forgotten?

“You know,” the demon said in a companionable sort of way, “I was wondering about something. Why did you come looking for this Hyrnek? You must have known it was a trap. He said you hadn’t seen him for years.”

“I hadn’t. But it’s my fault he’s in this mess, isn’t it?” Kitty gritted the words out.

“Ye-e-s …” The demon made a face. “I just think it’s odd, that’s all.”

“What can
you
know about it, demon?!” Kitty was white with rage. “You’re a monster! How dare you even
imagine
what I’m feeling!” She was so furious, she almost lashed out.

The boy tutted. “Let me give you a friendly tip,” he said. “Now, you wouldn’t want to be called ‘female mudspawn,’ would you? Well, in a similar way, when addressing a spirit such as me, the word
demon
is in all honesty a little demeaning to us both. The correct term is
djinni,
though you may add adjectives such as
noble
and
resplendent
if you choose. Just a question of manners. It keeps things friendly between us.”

Kitty laughed harshly.
“No one’s
friendly with a demon!”

“Not normally, no. The cognitive differentials are just too great. But it
has
happened.…” It broke off thoughtfully.

“Yeah?”

“Take it from me.”

“Such as when?”

“Oh, long ago … It doesn’t matter.” The Egyptian boy shrugged.

“You’re making it up.”

Kitty waited, but the boy was studying its fingernails intently. It did not continue.

After a long pause, she broke the silence. “So why
did
Mandrake save me from the wolves? It doesn’t make sense.”

The boy grunted. “He wants the Staff. Obviously.”

“The staff? Why?”

“What do you think? Power. He’s trying to get it before the others.” The boy’s voice was terse. It appeared to be in a bad mood.

A dawning realization stole over Kitty. “You mean that staff’s important?”

“Of course. It’s Gladstone’s. You
knew
that, otherwise why break into his tomb?”

In her mind’s eye, Kitty saw the theater box again, and the gold key being tossed into view. She heard the voice of their benefactor, mentioning the Staff as if it were an afterthought. She saw Hopkins’s pale gray eyes gazing at hers, heard his voice, low amid the bustle of the Druids’ Coffeehouse, inquiring after the Staff. She felt the sickness of betrayal.

“Oh. You
didn’t
know.” The bright eyes of the djinni were watching her. “You were set up. Who by? That Hopkins?”

Kitty’s voice was faint. “Yes. And someone else—I never saw his face.”

“Pity. It was almost certainly one of the leading magicians. As to which, you can take your pick. They’re all as bad as one another. And they’ll always have someone else do their dirty work for them, djinni or human.” It blinked, as if a thought had struck it. “You don’t know anything about the golem, I suppose?” This word meant nothing to Kitty; she shook her head. “Didn’t think so. It’s a big, nasty magical creature—been causing chaos around London recently.
Someone’s
controlling it, and I’d dearly like to know who. Nearly killed me, for starters.”

The boy looked so put out as it said this that Kitty almost smirked. “I thought you were a noble djinni of awesome power?” she said. “How come this golem beat you?”

“It’s resistant to magic, that’s why. Saps my energy if I get close.
You’d
have a better chance of stopping it than me.” It made it sound as if this was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

Kitty bridled. “Thanks a lot.”

“I’m serious. A golem’s controlled by a manuscript hidden in its mouth. If you got close, and whipped the paper out, the golem would return to its master and disintegrate back into clay. I saw it happen once, in Prague.”

Kitty nodded absently. “That doesn’t sound too difficult.”

“Obviously, you’d have to penetrate the choking black mist that hangs about it….”

“Oh … right.”

“And avoid its swinging fists that can hammer through concrete …”

“Ah.”

“Other than that, you’d be laughing.”

“Well, if it’s so
easy,
” Kitty demanded hotly, “how come the magicians haven’t stopped it?”

The djinni gave a cold smile. “Because it would require personal bravery. They never do
anything
themselves. They rely on us the whole time. Mandrake gives me an order, I obey. He sits at home, I go out and suffer. That’s the way it works.”

The boy’s voice had grown old and tired. Kitty nodded. “Sounds tough.”

A shrug. “That’s the way it works. No choice. That’s why I’m interested in you coming out to rescue Hyrnek. Let’s face it, it was a stupid decision, and you didn’t have to make it. No one’s forcing you to do anything. You got it wrong, but for admirable reasons. Believe me, it makes a change to see that after hanging around with magicians for so long.”

“I didn’t get it wrong,” Kitty said. “How long
has
it been?”