Strata

gently with a faint prickling sensation. Then she began a lazy tumble to the floor, several miles away.
    It had no right to hit her so hard.
    She felt as though one side of her body was one long bruise. Her shoulder muscles were screaming. Her arm suggested that it had been dragged through a sieve.
    For a blissful few seconds she was able to view the clamouring sensations objectively, lookinginto the kaleidoscope of her own head. Then subjectivity set in with a rush.
    There was a slithering noise behind her, and a soft thud. With a certain amount of agony she turned her head to see Abu sprawled against the wall, with a long red smear above him.
    Kin lay cherishing the coolness of the floor. Then she used her left arm, which merely ached horribly, to walk it on its fingers to the magician’s outflung hand. She uncurled his fingers from the lamp, and dragged it back until it was in front of her eyes.
    It didn’t look anything special. She buffed its surface with a finger.
    ‘I Am Azrifel, Slave Of The Lamp,’ said the demon in a sing-song voice. ‘Your Wish Is My Command.’
    ‘Fetch me a doctor,’ said Kin thickly. The demon disappeared. There was a tiny thunderclap.
    An agony later he reappeared. In his arms, kicking faintly and whimpering, was a small white-faced man in a black robe.
    ‘Wass that?’ said Kin.
    ‘Johannes Angelego Of The University Of Toledo.’
    Kin picked up the lamp and hammered it on the tiles. Azrifel screamed. The small scholar echoed him, then fainted.
    ‘I mean a physician, you horse,’ muttered Kin.‘Take that man back and bring me a proper doctor. It’s a box eight foot long, demon, with lights and dials on it. A DOCTOR. Unnerstan? Hell, even a human doctor would do.’
    She hit the lamp again. Azrifel shrieked and disappeared.
    This time he took longer, when he reappeared he carried a figure riding pickaback and was holding a large equipment box in his arms. Kin looked up hazily at the familiar green allsuit of an intern at the Company Medical Centre. The man jumped down, landing with all the athletic grace of one with limited access to rejuvenation treatments.
    Kin recognized Jen Teremilt, his face wavering slightly as the pain closed in. Good old Jen – she’d nearly married him, a hundred and forty years ago. He’d have reached a high position in the Company’s medical history if he hadn’t died while hunting chaque on Sister.
    His cool fingers reached out for her.
    Though the carpet could easily carry the three of them – Azrifel did not appear to weigh anything – Marco insisted on ordering the flying horse to follow them closely.
    ‘Are we ready?’ said Marco.
    The sun still hadn’t shown above the disc, but there was enough pearly pre-dawn light to show Kin and Silver sitting on the carpet in the middle of the cool roof.
    Kin’s arm felt numb. She shivered.
    ‘Let’s go,’ she said. She rubbed the lamp. Azrifel appeared beside her.
    ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What?’
    ‘What happened to all that O Mistress stuff?’ said Kin, surprised.
    Marco snorted impatiently.
    ‘All Right, Don’t Get Stuffy. That Sort Of Stuff Was All Right For
Him
– I Gathered You Were More Democratic.’ An etiquette lesson from a hundred and ninety years before jogged Kin’s overloaded memory – a gentleman is someone who always says ‘thank you’ to his robot.
    ‘This lamp,’ she said. ‘Suppose I were to give it to you?’
    The demon blinked, and thought about it. After a moment a green tongue flicked out across its dry lips.
    ‘I Would Take It And Drop It Over The Edge Of The World, O Mistress,’ it said. ‘Then I Would Have Peace.’
    ‘Fly this carpet to the centre of the world and I will give you the lamp,’ said Kin. Azrifel grinned. Kin added, ‘See the kung on the horse? You will note he has the magic sword. I will give him the lamp. Should you betray us in any way, no doubt he will damage the lamp in interesting ways—’
    The demon shivered.
    ‘Point Taken,’ he said, gloomily. ‘Is There No Trust In This World?’
    ‘No,’ said Marco flatly.
    The carpet rose and skimmed over the darkened city, Marco following closely on the flying horse.
    Kin watched the houses pass below and thought:
    Something
looks into our minds. The magic table produced food we merely thought of. When I thought of a doctor, it sent Azrifel with the man I had in mind, but it wouldn’t produce an autodoc. Why?
    Azrifel was still crouched vacantly beside her. At the front of