Ptolemy's Gate

myself surrounded by a tribe of street urchins, some scarcely taller than my knee. I was disguised as a manservant, going about my quiet business. I had made no loud noises or extravagant gestures. Nevertheless I was singled out and hit by fifteen eggs, mostly thrown with force."
    "What was your exact guise? Perhaps that was itself a provocation."
    "I was as you see me. Gray-haired, sober, and straight-backed, the model of tedious virtue."
    "Evidently the young scoundrels decided to waylay a man of such qualities. You were unlucky, that is all."
    Fritang's eyes widened and its nostrils flared. "There was more to it than that! They knew me for what I am!"
    "As a demon?" Mandrake flicked skeptically at a particle of dust upon his sleeve. "How could you tell?"
    "My suspicions were aroused by their repetitive chanting: 'Get out, get out, vile demon. We hate you and your dangling yellow crest.'"
    "Really? That is interesting. . ." The magician appraised Fritang carefully through his lenses. "But what yellow crest is this? I don't see it."
    The demon pointed at a space above its head. "That is because you cannot see the sixth or seventh planes. On those, my crest is self-evident, resplendent as a sunflower. I may add that it is not dangling, though captivity does make it droop a little."
    "The sixth and seventh planes. . . and you're quite sure you didn't let your guise slip for a moment? Yes, yes." Mandrake held up a hasty hand as the demon began a vehement protest.
    "I'm sure you're right and I am grateful for the information. You will doubtless want to rest after your egg trauma. Be gone! You are dismissed."
    With a yell of delight, Fritang departed in corkscrew motion through the center of the pentacle, as if sucked noisily down a plughole. Mandrake and Ms. Piper looked at each other.
    "Another case," Ms. Piper said. "Children again."
    "Mmm." The magician leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out behind his head. "You might just check the files, get the exact number. I must summon the demons back from Kent."
    He sat forward, his elbows on the desk, and made the incantation in an undertone. Ms. Piper got up and crossed to the filing cabinet on the edge of the circle. She opened the topmost drawer and drew out a bulging manila file. Returning to her seat, she removed the elastic around the file and began sifting rapidly through the documents within. The incantation ended amid a suffusion of jasmine and sweetbriar. In the right-hand pentacle a hulking form appeared—a giant with blond, braided hair and a single glaring eye. Ms. Piper went on reading.
    The giant performed a low and complex bow. "Master, I greet you with the blood of your enemies, with their cries and lamentations! Victory is ours!"
    Mandrake raised an eyebrow. "So you chased them away, then."
    The cyclops nodded. "They fled like mice before lions. Literally, in some cases."
    "Indeed. That was to be expected. But did you capture any?"
    "We killed a good many. You should have heard them squeak! And their fleeing hooves fairly shook the earth."
    "Right. So you didn't capture a single one. Which was expressly what I ordered you and the others to do." Mandrake rapped his fingers on the table. "In a matter of days they will attack again. Who sent them? Prague? Paris? America? Without captives it is impossible to say. We are no further forward."
    The cyclops gave a crisp salute. "Well, my work is done. I am pleased to have given satisfaction." It paused. "You seem lost in thought, O master."
    The magician nodded. "I am debating, Ascobol, whether to subject you to the Stipples or the Unfortunate Hug. Do you have a preference?"
    "You could not be so cruel!" The cyclops wiggled agonizedly back and forth, toying with a braid of hair. "Blame Bartimaeus, not me! Once again, he took no useful part in the action, but was waylaid by a single blow. I was delayed from the chase by his loud requests to help him up from beneath a pebble. He is as weak as a tadpole and vicious with it: you should subject him to the Stipples forthwith."
    "And where is Bartimaeus now?"
    The cyclops gave a pout. "I know not. Possibly he has expired from exhaustion in the interim. He took no part in the chase."
    The magician sighed deeply. "Ascobol—be gone from here." He made a dismissive sign. The giant's fluting cries of thanks were abruptly cut off; it vanished in a gout of flame. Mandrake turned to his assistant. "Any joy, Piper?"
    She nodded. "These are the unauthorized demon