Ptolemy's Gate

getting closer. If we had the Amulet we'd be laughing. Why'd you have to give it to Kitty anyhow?. . . Mmm, yeah, I know. Fair point. Isn't it hard to maintain an argument when you can read each other's mind? Uh-oh — Detonation coming. I'm going to jump.
    "Go on then."
    Sure? You don't mind?
    "Just do it!"
    Out from the smoke came a horribly hopping figure. The afrit within had mastered the limbs, yet chose to move on tiptoe rather than with human tread. A flash of golden light blew the lion statue apart, but Bartimaeus had already pulled the correct tendons, engaged the muscles—Nathaniel found himself somersaulting directly over the monster's head, landing at its back.
    Now, Bartimaeus said.
    Nathaniel spoke a single word. The Staff was triggered. A shaft of white light, diamond hard, narrow as a hand's breadth, shot from the center of the carved pentacle at its head. The ground shuddered; Nathaniel's teeth rattled in his jaw. The light missed Clive Jenkins's body by several feet and struck Nelson's Column, snapping it like a bread stick. The white light vanished. Nathaniel looked up. The afrit looked up. In utter silence the column teetered, shifted, and slowly, slowly seemed to grow. . . Then it was collapsing on them with a whistling almost like a scream, and Bartimaeus was launching them sideways, through the fabric of a burning stall, down onto the paving, hard upon the wounded shoulder, as the column fell to earth an d sliced the square in two.
    Nathaniel was on his feet in an instant. Pain flared in his collarbone. A voice of fury was .shouting in his mind. You've got to direct it properly! I'll do it next time!
    "No, you won't. The demon—where is it?"
    Long gone by now, no doubt. You really messed that up big time.
    "Now listen—" A movement a few meters away attracted his notice. Four white faces—a woman and her children crouching between the stalls. Nathaniel held out his hand. "It's all right," he said. "I'm a magician—"
    The woman gave a little scream; the children started and clustered close to her. A sardonic voice sounded in his head. Oh, nice one. Very reassuring. Why not offer to cut their throats too, while you're about it?
    Nathaniel cursed inwardly. Outwardly, he tried to smile. "I'm on your side," he said. "Stay here. I'll—"
    He looked up suddenly. The voice in his head: See it? Through the burning tatters of the stall, amid the clouds of dust that rose from the shattered pieces of the fallen column, he caught the glint of green. He refocused: on the higher planes he glimpsed the narrowed eyes more easily, the furtive lolloping movement in the dark. Nearer and nearer Clive Jenkins's body came, tiptoeing from stall to stall, hoping to catch him unawares.
    Bartimaeus spoke quickly: It'll be a Flux this time. . . Because I'm a djinni — that's how I know these things. Fluxes cover a wide area. She'll hope to disable you. I can put a Shield over us, but that'll deflect the stream from the Staff.
    "Can you put the Shield over those people?. . . Do that, then. We won't need one."
    Nathaniel allowed his hand to lift. Energies coursed through the outstretched fingers. A blue sphere extended over the huddled commoners, sealing them in. He turned back toward the square. Dust rose; black fragments drifted from the burning fabric of the stalls. No tiptoeing demon to be seen.
    "Where is it?"
    How should I know? You've not got eyes in the back of your head. I can only look where you do.
    "All right, all right, calm down."
    I'm calm. It's you who isn't. All these weird chemicals shooting through your system, pepping you up. It's no wonder humans don't think straight. There! No — just the wind flapping that canvas. Ooh. Made me jump, that did.
    Nathaniel scanned the square. The Staff hummed in his hand. He tried to tune out the constant flitter of the djinni's voice, its flood of memories; at times they almost swamped him. Where was the demon hiding? Behind the column's splintered base? Doubtful. . . too far away. . . Where, then?
    It's beyond me, Bartimaeus said. Maybe she's run off.
    Nathaniel took a few tentative steps forward. His skin crawled; he felt the imminence of danger. Far away across the square he saw a railing, a set of steps leading below the pavement. It was the subway, the Underground. . . Below the square stretched a network of tunnels, connecting with the trains, carrying pedestrians beneath the roads. And those tunnels came up. . .
    At different points about the square. .