Ptolemy's Gate

pentacle."You heard all that, John?"
    Mandrake's face was white with shock and rising disgust. "Makepeace—what is the purpose of this exhibition? We cannot pluck men off the streets and subject them to torture—"
    The playwright snorted. "Torture? He's all right. He's barely been touched. Besides, you heard him—he's an agitator, a threat to the nation. But I intend him no malice. He's just helping me with a little experiment. Observe. . ." He adopted a dramatic pose; his fingers twitched, as if about to conduct an orchestra.
    Mandrake started forward. "I insist that—"
    "Careful, John. You know better than to fool about when a summoning's in progress." With this, the playwright began a rapid incantation. The light dimmed; from nowhere a gentle breeze stirred the candle flames. Two rooms away t he iron door jolted in its sockets. Mandrake stepped back, instinctively raising the spike he carried. Subconsciously he listened to the words: Latin. . . a fairly typical summons, the usual clauses . . . the demon's name—Borello. . . but wait, what was that bit—? "In corpus viri" . . ."into the vessel that you find there . . .""obedient to the vessel's will" . . .This was odd and unfamiliar. . .
    The incantation finished. Mandrake's gaze swiveled to the chair, where a dark shadow flickered. Now it was gone. The man's body jerked, as if all its muscles had tensed, then relaxed. Mandrake waited. The breeze subsided, the lightbulb flared once more. The young man sat inert and passive. His eyes were closed.
    Mr. Makepeace lowered his hands. He winked at Mandrake. "Now then . . ."
    He took a step forward. Mandrake gasped, cried out a warning. "Wait, you fool! The demon's there! It's suicide to—"
    Calm and slow as a noonday cat, Makepeace stepped out of his circle and into the other. Nothing happened. Grinning, he once more removed the gag and patted the captive gently on one cheek. "Mr. Drew! Wake up! This is no time for sleeping!"
    Languorously the young man stirred. Hands and feet stretched against their bonds. His eyes opened and stared about them dreamily. He seemed to have difficulty recollecting his situation. Fascinated despite himself, Mandrake moved a little closer.
    "Hold that stick ready," Makepeace said. "Things may go wrong." He bent near, spoke sweetly. "What is your name, friend?"
    "Nicholas Drew."
    "Is that your only name? Think deeply. Do you have another?"
    A pause. The man's face furrowed. "Yes. . . I do."
    "And what is it?"
    "Borello. . ."
    "Ah, good. Tell me, Nicholas, what is your occupation?"
    "Shop worker."
    "And what is the Shriveling Fire? When is it applied?"
    A brief frown of puzzlement gave way to bland assurance. "It is the penalty for disobedience, should we purposefully fail in our charge. Our master puts our essence to the torch. Ah, we fear it!"
    "Very good. Thank you." Mr. Makepeace turned away, leaped carefully over the nearest chalk marks, and approached John Mandrake, whose face had been robbed of expression. "What do you think, my boy? Is it not a fascinating situation?"
    "I don't know. . . It is a clever trick—"
    "It is more than a trick! The demon has lodged itself within the man. It is trapped inside as if he were the pentacle!
    Did you not hear? And the demon's knowledge is at the man's command. Suddenly he knew the meaning of the Shriveling Fire. He had knowledge, where before had just been blankness! Now, consider the implications. . ."
    Mandrake frowned. "The feat is morally dubious. This fellow is an unwilling victim. Besides, he is a commoner. He cannot properly use the demon's information."
    "Aha! Perceptive as ever! Forget the moral dimension for a moment. Imagine if—"
    "What is he doing?" Mandrake was studying the captive, who seemed to have newly recognized his surroundings. Agitation had returned to the face; he struggled with his bonds. Once or twice he turned his head violently from side to side, like a dog worrying at a flea.
    Makepeace shrugged. "Perhaps he senses the demon inside. Perhaps it talks within him. Hard to tell. I have not tried it with a commoner before."
    "You have used others?"
    "A single one only. A volunteer. That union has worked extremely well."
    Mandrake rubbed his chin. The sight of the writhing captive unsettled him, disrupting his intellectual interest. He could not think what to say.
    Mr. Makepeace had no such problems. "The implications, as I say, are immense. Notice how I entered the pentacle unharmed? The demon was powerless to stop