Ptolemy's Gate

were etched upon his cheeks. He opened his mouth, closed it—
    "It's all right, George." Kitty pushed her way around the end of the bar; she carried her coat across one arm. "You don't have to. Thanks." She walked slowly between the tables. "Well, Mr. Mandrake? Shall we go?"
    For a moment the magician did not answer. He was staring at her, his pale face a little flushed, perhaps affected by the heat of the room. Collecting himself, he gave a slight bow. "Ms. Jones! I am honored. Would you mind coming with me?" He stood aside. Stiff-backed, staring straight ahead, Kitty passed him. He followed her to the door.
    The young man looked back at the silent room. "My apologies for disrupting your evening." He went out; the door closed. For almost a minute no one moved or spoke.
    "You'll be needing a new barmaid, George," someone said.
    In the yard the vigilance sphere had gone. A few car lights moved on the road beyond the passageway. A light rain fell. Kitty heard it tapping against the river in the darkness below the parapet. Cool air brushed her face, and specks of dampness; their sudden touch made her feel alive.
    Behind her, a voice: "Ms. Jones. My car is close by. I suggest we walk to it."
    At the sound, a fierce exultation suddenly flowered in Kitty. Far from the fear she should have felt, she knew only defiance and a kind of joy. Since the first numb shock of Mandrake's appearance she had been quite calm—calm and curiously revived. For three long years she had led a solitary, cautious life. Now, with all its prospects shattered, she knew she could not have endured that life a moment longer. She wanted action, regardless of the consequences. Her old recklessness came flooding back to her upon a tide of frustrated rage.
    She turned. Mandrake stood before her— Mandrake, one of the Council. It was like the answer to her prayers.
    "So what are you going to do?" she snapped. "Kill me?"
    The young man blinked. His face was dimly lit by lights from the old inn's windows; it gave him a sickly, yellow cast. He cleared his throat. "No. I—"
    "Why not? Isn't that what you do to traitors?" Kitty spat the last word out. "Or to anyone who crosses you? One of your demons was here two nights ago. It killed a man. He had a family. He'd never done anything against the government. But it killed him even so."
    The magician made an irritable noise behind his teeth. "That is unfortunate. But it is nothing to do with me."
    "No, except you control the demons." Kitty's voice was hard and shrill. "They're just the slaves. You direct them."
    "I meant it wasn't me personally. That's not my department. Now, Ms. Jones—"
    "Sorry," she said, laughing, "that is just the most lamentable excuse I've ever heard. Not my department. Ooh, that makes it all right then. And I suppose the war isn't your department either, or the Night Police, or the prisons in the Tower. None of them are anything to do with you."
    "As a matter of fact, they're not." His voice grew stern. "Now can you manage to be silent on your own, Ms. Jones? Or perhaps you wish my help?" He clicked a finger; a shadow detached itself from the darkest corner of the yard. "That is Fritang," Mandrake said. "Most savage of my slaves. He will do whatever I comm—"
    Kitty gave a cry of derision. "That's right, threaten me! Just like you threatened the people in the inn. Can't manage to do anything without force to back you up, can you? I don't know how you sleep at night."
    "That's rich coming from you" Mandrake snapped."I don't remember the Resistance being afraid to use force when it suited them. Let's see now, what were the casualty figures? Several people killed, others maimed and—"
    "That was different. We were fighting for ideals —"
    "Well, so am I. However . . ." He took a deep breath. "I admit to being discourteous in the present instance."The magician waved a hand, spoke a word of dismissal; the menacing shadow faded into nothing. "There. Now you can talk without fear."
    Kitty looked directly at him. "I was not afraid."
    Mandrake shrugged. He glanced back over his shoulder at the closed inn door, then out toward the road. In contrast to his imperious efficiency inside The Frog, he seemed suddenly hesitant, unsure what to do.
    "Well?" Kitty said. "What normally happens next when you arrest someone? Spot of torture? A beating? What's it to be?"
    A sigh. "I've not arrested you. At least, not necessarily."
    "Then I'm free to go?"
    "Ms. Jones," he snarled, "I am here as a private