Ptolemy's Gate

then: "It is true. We work together."
    If Faquarl had been surprised when I first spoke, he was now dumbfounded. The possibility simply hadn't occurred to him.
    "The human retains his intelligence?" he muttered. "Who then is the master? Which of you has dominance?"
    "Neither of us," I said.
    Nathaniel concurred. "It is an equal balance."
    Faquarl shook his head, almost as if in admiration. "Remarkable," he said. "As a perversity it is unique. Or almost so: that brat from Alexandria you were always going on about at one time, Bartimaeus. He'd have approved, wouldn't he?" His lip curled a little. "Tell me, do you not feel soiled by such an intimate association?"
    "Not particularly," I said. "It's no more intimate than yours, and it's a lot less permanent. I'm going home."
    "Oh, dear. What makes you think that?" Faquarl moved his hand; but I'd anticipated him. Our long discussion had given us a chance to recover from the fall; our energies were rekindled. Nathaniel's fingers were already pointed in his direction. The green-gray Spasm hit Faquarl's Shield directly; though uninjured, he spun round—his Detonation struck the earth well clear. Meanwhile, I exercised our limbs. With a scattering of soil, we launched from the ground, soared above the path, landed right beside the Staff. Nathaniel scooped it up; we turned, quick as a striking krait.
    Faquarl stood on the path, not distant, hand half raised. Light from the Glass Palace cut across him, blending with the shadow. Fast as we'd been, he was still faster. I sometimes wonder if he could have got us in the back, as we bent beside the Staff, before we'd got it in our hand. But maybe our Spasm had shaken him, put him off his stride. It's difficult to say. For a second we gazed at each other.
    "Your discovery is remarkable," Faquarl said. "But it comes too late for me."
    He made some movement or other with his fleshy body; I don't remember what. I did nothing, but I was conscious of the boy's immediate command. A stab of pure white light—it faded, vanished, scoured Faquarl from the Earth.
    We stood alone on the path beneath the palace.
    Shake a leg, the boy thought. People are coming, and we've got a final bit of work to do.

36

    Kitty

    It was fortunate for Kitty that most of the magicians in her company were from the very lowest ranks, since this meant that several of them could drive. Limousines were located in the lot beneath Westminster Hall; the Chauffeurs' Mess provided a choice of keys. By the time six vehicles arrived, revving, in the deserted street outside, Kitty and the others had retrieved what weapons they could, negotiated the summoning of a number of imps, and were waiting at the door. Without ceremony, they bundled in, four to a car, and with the demons hovering in their wake, proceeded in procession up the road.
    They did not get far. Halfway up Whitehall, they found the way blocked by rubble from a toppled war memorial. Progress was impeded; laboriously the convoy turned, retreated to Parliament Square, and turned right toward St. James's Park.
    If Whitehall had been empty, the streets to the south of the park were anything but. Not far ahead came explosions, reflected lights, and the sound of howling wolves. Closer still, as if a human dam had burst, hundreds of people surged from the side roads, swamping the thoroughfare and pouring down toward the limousines.
    Kitty was sitting in the lead car, beside the driver. Sudden fear lurched in her. "Get out!" she snapped. "It isn't safe!"
    He saw the danger, switched off the engine, fumbled with the door. As one, they left the cars and ran for shelter; seconds later the crowd engulfed the limousines, eyes wild, faces set in expressions of terror and despair. Many ran straight past; others, seeing in the sleek black vehicles stark symbols of the magicians' rule, lashed out at them, kicking, screaming. A brick appeared from nowhere: a windscreen smashed; the crowd's voice roared.
    Ms. Piper supported Kitty, who was shaking with the effort of their escape. "The commoners. . ." she whispered. "They've gone insane. . ."
    "They're scared, they're angry." Kitty struggled to gather her strength. "Look at their injuries. They've escaped from the park. Now, are we all present?" As she looked down the straggling line of magicians, a thought struck her. "Those of you with imps, get them under your jackets!" she hissed. "If anyone with resilience spots them, you'll be torn apart! Ready? Right— come on, we've no