Ptolemy's Gate

interest in foiling him and ensuring our own survival."
    "Exactly!" she cried, "and we—"
    "We had nothing more in common than that," I went on imperturbably. "True, we had a bit of a chin-wag. True, I did give you a few clues about the golem's weaknesses—but that was merely in a scientific spirit, to see how perversely your odd little conscience would behave. And mighty perverse it was too."
    "I don't accept—"
    "If I might be allowed to get a word in edgeways," I said, "I
    will just point out the salient difference between then and now. Then, we were both victims of the magicians. Agreed? Right. But now, one of us—i.e. moi" —I tapped my bare brown chest—"is still a victim, still a slave. As for the other one. . . she's changed sides."
    She shook her head. "No."
    "She's a turncoat—"
    "I'm not—"
    "A two-timing backstabber—"
    "Bartim—"
    "A conniving, treacherous, opportunistic, false-faced traitor, who's taken it upon herself to add to my endless years of slavery! Who's set out to learn the cursed arts, without prompting and without coercion! You can say this much for Nathaniel and the rest—they didn't have any choice in the matter. Most of them were molded into magicians before they were old enough to know better! But you —you could have taken a dozen different paths. And instead you decided to enslave Bartimaeus, Sakhr-al-Jinni, the Serpent of Silver Plumes, the wolf-jawed guardian of the Iroquois. And in your arrogance you consider I'll do you no harm! Well, let me tell you, young madam, you underestimate me at your peril! I am master of a thousand tricks, a hundred weapons! I can—ouch!!"
    In rather heated fashion I had been ornamenting my argument with a series of brisk finger-jabs, one of which overshot the mark and touched the red chalk of my pentacle. With a small explosion of yellow sparks, my essence was rebuffed: I was tossed up and backward, head over heels, frantically pedaling in midair to avoid crossing the line on the other side. With the agility born of desperation, I managed it, and sank down to earth with blackened face and my loincloth torn asunder.
    The girl considered the latter with a disapproving twist of the mouth. "Tsk," she said. "We're back to square one."
    I delicately rearranged the fragments of cloth. "The point remains. By summoning me, you've redefined our roles. There can be nothing but hatred between us."
    "Oh, rubbish," she said. "How else was I to get hold of you? I'm not enslaving you, you idiot. I wanted to discuss something with you, as equals."
    I raised what remained of my eyebrows. "Hardly feasible. Do dust mites confer with lions?"
    "Oh, stop being so sniffy. Who's Nathaniel, anyway?"
    I blinked at her uncertainly. "Who? Never heard of him."
    "You just referred to someone called Nathaniel."
    "No, no, you must have misheard." I changed the subject swiftly: "The whole idea is ridiculous, anyway. Equality is impossible between humans and djinn. You are young and foolish, so perhaps I shouldn't be too hard on you, but the notion is misguided. I have known a hundred masters over five thousand years, and whether their pentacles have been drawn on the desert sand or on the turf-moss of the steppe, the enmity between me and my summoners has been great and everlasting. So it has always been. So it shall always be."
    I finished in resounding, plangent tones that brooked no argument. They echoed dramatically back and forth across the empty room. The girl smoothed back her hair.
    "Absolute tripe," she said. "What about you and Ptolemy?"

15

    Kitty knew immediately that her theory had been correct. The djinni's response told her so. Since his accident at the margins of the pentacle, the young Egyptian boy had been facing her, chest and chin thrust out, hands sweeping this way and that to illustrate his expansive statements and occasionally return his loincloth to position. As soon as she spoke, however, all his blustering and bravado instantly ceased. A great stillness came over him: the face became quite frozen, the body utterly transfixed, as if somehow caught in time. Only the eyes moved: slowly, very slowly, the pupils shifted to fix their gaze on her. The boy's eyes had always seemed dark—but now they had become quite black. Without wishing it, Kitty found herself staring into them: it was like looking at a clear night sky—all black and cold and infinite, with tiny lights glinting, unreachable and far away. . . It was terrible, yet beautiful; she was