Ptolemy's Gate

situation outside may be. . . difficult. Demons have broken loose in London."
    Gasps, oaths; the assembled faces registered sagging dismay. Young and old, they gaped at her, vulnerable and uncomprehending. Gone was any vestige of magicianly assurance—now they were nothing but humans, panic-stricken, leaderless, stripped bare. Kitty held up a hand. "Listen," she said, "and I'll tell you."
    "One moment." The black-haired woman reached out and clutched at Kitty's arm. "First, who the hell are yow? I don't recognize your face, or"—she curled a lip—"your dirty little clothes. I don't think you're even a magician."
    "Correct," Kitty snapped. "I'm a commoner. But you'd do well to shut up and hear me out if you want to avoid being killed."
    The woman's eyes widened. "How dare you—?"
    "Yes, shut your trap, Farrar," a man said.
    The woman seemed to choke; she looked around wildly, but let go of Kitty's arm.
    This one exception apart, everyone in the room seemed eager, grateful even, to listen to what Kitty had to say. Whether it was their residual shock that kept them quiet, or whether they glimpsed, in the gray-haired girl with the lined and weary face, something that commanded unequivocal respect was hard to say. But they listened with complete attention as Kitty told them what had happened.
    "What about the rest of us?" one of the older men said plaintively. "There were a hundred at least sitting in that theater. Surely they haven't all—"
    "I'm not sure," Kitty said. "Perhaps there are other rooms of prisoners that the demons forgot, or decided to ignore. You'll have to see. But many of you are dead."
    "What about Mr. Devereaux?" a woman whispered.
    "Or Jessica Whitwell, or—?"
    Kitty held up her hand. "I'm sorry, but I don't know. I think it likely that many of the most senior magicians have been possessed or killed."
    " This one hasn't." The dark-haired woman spoke savagely. "Until they are found, I am the sole Council member remaining. So I am now in charge. We must get to our pentacles and conjure our slaves. I shall contact my police wolves forthwith. The renegade demons will be found and destroyed."
    "Two things," Kitty said quietly. "No, three. This man must be seen to first. Can anyone provide transport?"
    "I can." The spotty youth bent beside the limp body. "Going to need three of us for this. Mr. Johnson, Mr. Vole, can you lend a hand, help me get him to a limo?" Assistance came; the men departed, supporting the invalid between them.
    A clap of the hands; the dark-haired woman was by the door."To the pentacles!" she commanded."No time to waste!"
    Nobody moved. "I think this lady had something more to say," an older man said, nodding toward Kitty. "We should hear her out, don't you think, Ms. Farrar? Out of courtesy, if nothing else."
    Ms. Farrar's lips twisted. "But she's nothing but a—"
    "I had two further points to make," Kitty said. She felt very tired now, light-headed; she needed to sit down. No—get a grip; get the job done. "The chief demon, Nouda, is very terrible. It would be suicide for you to approach him without the greatest possible weapon. And that is already being done." She looked around the silent group. "A magician, another surviving Council member"—Kitty could not resist a sly glance at Ms. Farrar here—"has gone to meet it. He uses Gladstone's Staff."
    She was only half surprised by the stifled exclamations of astonishment. Ms. Farrar in particular seemed incensed. "But Mr. Devereaux has forbidden it!" she cried."Who would dare to—?"
    Kitty smiled. "It is Nath—-John Mandrake. You had better hope he is successful."
    "Mandrake!" Farrar's face was pale with fury. "He doesn't have the talent!"
    "The final thing I would like to say," Kitty went on remorselessly, "is that with this being so, the most important thing for us—for you, I should say; you are the magicians, you have the power—is to provide protection and guidance for the people. Since Makepeace imprisoned you all, there has been no leadership, no one to evacuate areas where the demons are at large. We risk mass casualties here, mass casualties. If we do not act, many commoners will die."
    "Never bothered us before," a young man muttered at the back, but general opinion was against him.
    "What we need is a crystal," Piper said. "See where the demons are."
    "Or a scrying bowl. Where do they keep them in this place?"
    "Must be one. Come on."
    "Let's get to the pentacles. I could summon an imp, send him off."
    "We'll