Ptolemy's Gate

reverse it on me either."[2]

[2] He was right, unfortunately. If he'd zapped me with a punishment spell, I could have turned it back on him (a major benefit of knowing his birth name), but I had no such defense against an actual spear-thrust, especially in my current debilitated state.

"You reckon?" The lioness drew herself up to her full height. Her tufty ears scraped the ceiling. "Them's mighty big words, stranger. Go ahead and prove 'em."
    He snarled, lunged weakly with the spear. The lioness flinched sideways and sliced down at the spear shaft with her claw. It was a pathetic display all round: we both missed by miles.
    "What sort of thrust d'you call that?" the lion scoffed, hopping from one foot to another. "You're like a blind sparrow pecking for a worm."
    "You were no better."The magician was shuffling from side to side within his pentacle, ducking down, jerking up, feinting with his spear in every direction known to man. He wheezed, he gasped; he displayed all the skill of someone whose servants normally lift his knife and fork.
    "Hey," I said. "I'm this way. To the front."
    "Answers, Bartimaeus!" he cried again. "Tell me the truth! No delays, no evasions. Who summoned you?"
    I'd expected this. But I couldn't tell him that Kitty was still alive, of course. However misguided she was, she'd treated me with honor. The lioness looked sheepish.[3] "Who says anyone summoned me?"

[3] A confusing analogy, but you get the idea.

" I do and don't deny it! I tried last night and you were gone. Who was it? Which magician were you seeing?"
    "Don't get so worked up. It was a brief encounter. Nothing serious. It's over."
    "Nothing serious?" Another jab with the spear, this time pronging the floorboards. "Think I'm going to believe that?"
    "Calm down, Mr. Jealous. You're making a scene."
    "Who was it? Man or woman?"
    I tried to be reassuring. "Look, I know what you're thinking, and I didn't. Is that good enough for you?"
    "No! You expect me to trust a word you say?"
    So much for reassurance. The lioness reverted to barefaced cheek.[4] "All right, then—trust this: Get lost. It's none of your business. I owe you nothing."

[4] Confusing again. Sorry.

The boy was so angry I thought he was going to burst out of his suit. It was the fear in him, of course; the fear of me passing on his name.
    "Listen, sonny," I said. "I never pass information from one master to another unless it's firmly in my interests, so don't expect me to say anything to you about last night. By the same token I've not told anyone your pathetic little birth name. Why should I? It means nothing to me. But if you're so worried about me revealing your childhood secrets, there's a simple solution. Dismiss me for good! But no—you can't bring yourself to do that, can you? In fact, I don't think you actually want to break away from your past. That's why you keep me around, no matter how weak I get. It's so you can hang on to the Nathaniel you once were, as well as the big, bad John Mandrake you've become."
    The magician said nothing, but looked at me blankly with his hot and hollow eyes. I couldn't blame him. I was a bit surprised myself in actual fact. Don't know where those piercing insights came from. All the same, I wondered if they rather went over his head. He wasn't looking well.
    We were in his study; it was, I guessed, late afternoon. Papers were strewn about the place; there was an uneaten plate of food upon his desk. The air had a sour, stale smell that suggested prolonged occupation by an unwashed youth. And sure enough, the youth in question was not his usual dapper self. His face was puffy, his eyes red and wild; his shirt (distressingly unbuttoned) hung over his trousers in sloppy fashion. All very out of character: Mandrake was normally defined by his rigid self-control. Something seemed to have stripped all that away.
    Well, the poor lad was emotionally brittle. He needed sympathetic handling.
    "You're a mess," I sneered. "You've lost it big-time. What's happened? All your guilt and self-loathing suddenly get to you? It can't just be that someone else called me, surely?"
    The boy looked up into the lioness's crystal eyes. "No . . ." he said slowly."I've other cause for complaint too. And you're at the heart of it all."
    "Me.?" And there was I, lamenting my decline! Looked like there was life in the old djinni yet. I perked up. "How so?"
    "Well"—he set the spear against the ground, narrowly avoiding impaling his toe—"I'll just run