Ptolemy's Gate

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."

[7] Somewhere deep inside those eyes I glimpsed the fearful energies of the Other Place, swirling, swirling. I couldn't help but wonder how long the mortal body would survive the strain of such an inhabitant.

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

    For 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