Ptolemy's Gate

time to waste."
    Without delay they continued up the street on foot, keeping to the margins as the flow of human traffic swept by. The first few side roads were choked with rushing bodies and proved impassable. Little by little they drew near to the sounds of fighting.
    A flash of light in the darkness. Silhouetted on a building, the outline of a man. Green fires billowed all about him. The light went out. In the street below, a small number of wolves were massing; they heard a high voice shouting orders, glimpsed a dark-haired form—
    "That's Farrar," one of the magicians said. "She's got some wolves together. But what. . . what was that shape?"
    "One of the demons . . ." Kitty was leaning wearily against a wall and looking down a narrow alley. "This way's clear. It'll get us to the park."
    "But shouldn't we—?"
    "No. That's just a sideshow. Besides, I don't think dear Ms. Farrar would really want our help, do you?"
    The alley led, by circuitous twists and turns, to a quiet road running along the edge of the park. This they crossed, and from a small eminence, looked down upon the black expanse. A few fires burned here and there—in trees, in pavilions, in the pagoda down by the lake—but little movement could be seen. At Kitty's suggestion, a number of imps were sent ahead to spy out the land. They returned in moments.
    "Terrible battle has been waged here," said the first, wringing its webbed hands. "At intervals the ground is crisp and charred. Magical effusions hang over the ground like fog. But the battle has ceased everywhere, save in one place."
    "Many humans have perished," said the second, goggle-eyes blinking on their stalks. "Their bodies lie like fallen leaves. Some lie wounded; they cry for help. A few others wander without purpose. But most have fled. The park is empty of crowds, save in one place."
    "The great spirits are likewise gone," said the third, flapping its gauzy wings. "Their spilled essence hangs amid the echoes of their screams. A few survivors have fled across the city. But none remain in the park, save in one place."
    "And what," Kitty asked, tapping her foot gently, "is that place?"
    Wordlessly the three imps turned and pointed up at the lights of the great Glass Palace.
    Kitty nodded. "Why didn't you say so? All right, let's go."
    For ten hard and silent minutes they walked across the blackened ground. Kitty went slowly, forcibly completing each step against the shrill protests of her body. In the hours since her return, her strength had dripped back steadily. Even so, she longed to rest. She knew she was reaching the end of her endurance.
    The imps' reports had been pithy, but the implication of them was clear, and fitted in with the glimpse in the crystal. Nathaniel and Bartimaeus had been here: it was they who had cleared the park and enabled many of the people to escape. Perhaps—the hope swelled inside her with each step—perhaps they would soon complete the process: perhaps she would see them coming toward her in triumph, with a group of grateful commoners in their train. Surely, with the Staff, it was only a matter of time. . .
    But while there was any doubt, she could not hold back. She could not leave them. At her neck the Amulet of Samarkand bounced gently with each faltering step.
    Five minutes passed. Kitty's eyes grew heavy. Suddenly they blinked alert.
    "What was that?"
    "Magical blast," Ms. Piper whispered. "By the eastern entrance."
    They kept walking.
    Four minutes later, with the palace looming over them, they entered the ornamental gardens. As they did so, the ground shook; a piercing white light flashed upon the path before the building. The company stopped dead, waited. The light was not repeated. Nervousness crackled between them like an electric charge.
    Kitty's eyes strained in the dark. The glow from the palace cast the night into even greater shadow. It was hard to be sure. . . But—yes—there upon the path, a figure standing. As she watched, it moved and was silhouetted against the glass.
    Kitty hesitated just a moment. Then she stumbled forward, calling.

    Nathaniel

    At the sound of the voice Nathaniel stopped dead. It barely even carried to his brain, what with his ears buzzing from a hundred Detonations and with the vibrations of the thirsty Staff humming near at hand, but the little call did what all the demons across the park had failed to do: it set his heart racing.
    Throughout the battle he had moved with demonic speed and efficiency, avoiding