The Amulet of Samarkand

the disc and muttered the invocation. At the third time of asking, the imp's face appeared, spinning as if on a roundabout. It raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
    "Ain't you dead?" it said.
    "No."
    "Pity."
    "Stop spinning," Nathaniel snarled. "I have a task for you."
    "Hold on a sec," the imp said, screeching to a halt suddenly. "Who's that with you?"
    "That's Bartimaeus, another of my slaves."
    "He'd like to think as much," the djinni said.
    The imp frowned. "That's Bartimaeus? The one from the Tower?"
    "Yes."
    "Ain't he dead?"
    "No."
    "Pity."
    "He's a feisty one." Bartimaeus stretched and yawned. "Tell him to watch it. I pick my teeth with imps his size."
    The baby made a skeptical face. "Yeah? I've eaten djinn like you for breakfast, mate."
    Nathaniel kicked a foot against the floor. "Will you both just shut up and let me give my command? I'm in charge here. Right. Imp: I wish you to show me the building known as Heddleham Hall. Somewhere near London. Owned by a woman named Amanda Cathcart. So! Be gone about your errand!"
    "Hope it ain't too far off, this hall. My astral cord's only so long, you know."
    The disc clouded. Nathaniel waited impatiently for it to clear.
    And waited.
    "That is one slow scrying glass," Bartimaeus said. "Are you sure it's working?"
    "Of course. It's a difficult objective, that's why it's taking time. And don't think you're getting off lightly, either. When we find the Hall, I want you to go and check it out. See if anything's going on. Lovelace may be setting some kind of trap."
    "It would have to be a subtle one to fool all those magicians heading there on Wednesday. Why don't you try shaking it?"
    "It works, I tell you! You see—here we go."
    The imp reappeared, huffing and wheezing as if it was hideously out of breath. "What is it with you?" it panted. "Most magicians use their glasses to spy on people they fancy in the shower. But not you, oh no. That would be much too easy. I've never approached a place that's so well guarded. That Hall is almost as bad as the Tower itself. Hair-trigger nexuses, randomly materializing sentries, the lot. I had to retreat as soon as I got near. This is the best image I could get."
    A very blurry image filled the center of the disc. It was possible to make out a smudgy brown building with several turrets or towers, surrounded by woodland, with a long drive approaching from one side. A couple of black dots could be seen moving rapidly through the sky behind the building.
    "See those things?" the imp's voice remarked. "Sentries. They sensed me as soon as I materialized. That's them coming for me. Fast, aren't they? No wonder I had to skeddadle straight away."
    The image disappeared; the baby took its place. "How was that?"
    "Useless," Bartimaeus said. "We still don't know where the Hall is."
    "That's where you're wrong." The baby's face assumed an inconceivably smug expression. "It's fifty miles due south of London and nine miles west of the Brighton railway line. A huge estate. Can't miss it. I may be slow, but I'm thorough."
    "You may depart." Nathaniel passed his hand across the disc, wiping it clear again. "Now we're getting started," he said. "The amount of magical protection confirms that that must be where the conference is taking place. Wednesday... We've two days to get there."
    The djinni blew out its cheeks rudely. "Two days till we're back at the mercy of Lovelace, Faquarl, Jabor, and a hundred wicked magicians who think you're an arsonist. Goody. Can't wait."
    Nathaniel's face hardened. "We have an agreement, remember? All we need is proper planning. Go to Heddleham Hall now, get as close as you can, and find a way to get in. I shall wait for you here. I need to sleep."
    "Humans really do have no stamina. Very well: I shall go." The djinni rose.
    "How long will it take you?"
    "A few hours. I'll be back before nightfall. There's a curfew on and the spheres will be out, so don't leave this building."
    "Stop telling me what to do! Just leave! Wait—before you go, how do I build up the fire?"
    A few minutes later, the djinni departed. Nathaniel lay down on the floor close to the crackling flames. His grief and guilt lay down with him like shadows, but his weariness was stronger than both of them combined. In under a minute, he was asleep.

33
     
    In his dream, he sat in a summer garden with a woman at his side. A pleasant feeling of peace was upon him: she was talking and he listened, and the sound of her voice mingled with the birdsong and