The Amulet of Samarkand

way like some giant land snail up the stairs to the first-floor room, where he promptly collapsed against a wall. Out of a spirit of scientific curiosity, I lit a small Flame and inspected him closely. It's a good job I've had experience dealing with stygian implets and the like, because he wasn't a pretty sight. He seemed to have been taken bodily and rolled through a particularly pungent mire or stable yard, before being stirred head first into a vat of dirt and grass-cuttings. His hair stuck up like a porcupine's rump. His jeans were torn and bloodied at the knee. He had a large bruise on his cheek and a nasty cut above one ear. Best of all, though, his eyes were furious.
    "Had a good evening, sir?" I said.
    "A fire," he snarled. "Make me a fire. I'm freezing."
    This haughty master mode sounded a little out of place coming from something a jackal would have spurned, but I didn't object. I was finding it all too amusing. So I gathered sundry bits of wood, got a reviving fire going, then settled down (in Ptolemy's form) as close as I could stomach.
    "Well," I said cheerily, "this makes a pleasant change. Usually it's the djinni who comes in worn out and covered in muck. I approve of such innovations. What made you leave the library? Did Lovelace's forces find you? Did Jabor break in?"
    He spoke slowly through clenched teeth. "I went to get a newspaper."
    This was getting better and better! I shook my head regretfully. "You should leave such a dangerous assignment to people better qualified: next time ask an old granny, or a toddler—"
    "Shut up!" His eyes blazed. "It was that paperboy! And his friend Fred! Two commoners! They lured me away from here and stole my disc—the one I made. I followed them and they tried to kill me; would have done it too, if it wasn't for the girl—"
    "A girl? What girl?"
    "But even so I smashed my head open and fell in a puddle, and then, when they'd gone, I couldn't find the way back and it was after curfew and the search spheres were out and I had to keep hiding as they passed. In the end, I found a stream under a bridge and lay there in the mud for ages while the lights patrolled up and down the road above. And then, when they'd gone, I still had to find my way back. It took me hours! And I hurt my knee."
    Well, it wasn't exactly Shakespeare, but it was the best bedtime story I'd heard in a long time. It quite cheered me up.
    "They're part of the Resistance," he went on, staring into the fire. "I'm sure of it. They're going to sell my disc—give it to the same people who attacked Parliament! Ahh!" He clenched his fists. "Why weren't you there to help me? I could have caught them—forced them to tell me about their leader."
    "If you recall," I remarked, coldly, "I was off on a mission you gave me. Who was this girl you mentioned?"
    "I don't know. I only saw her for a second. She was in charge of them. One day, though, I'll find her and make her pay!"
    "I thought you said she stopped them from killing you?"
    "She still took my disc! She's a thief and a traitor."
    Whatever else the girl was, she sounded very familiar. A thought struck me. "How did they know you had the disc? Did you show it to them?"
    "No. Do you think I'm stupid?"
    "That's beside the point. Are you sure you didn't bring it out when you were fumbling for change?"
    "No. The paperboy just knew, somehow. Like he was a djinni or an imp."
    "Interesting..." It sounded exactly like the same bunch who jumped me the night I had the Amulet of Samarkand. My girl and her cronies hadn't needed to see the Amulet to know I had it on me, either. And they'd later found me hidden behind my Concealment spell. Useful abilities, which were evidently being put to good use. If they were part of this Resistance movement, it sounded like opposition to the magicians was more developed—and potentially formidable—than I'd thought. Times were moving on in London....
    I didn't share these thoughts with the boy. He was the enemy, after all, and the last thing magicians need are any clever insights. "Leaving your misfortunes to one side for a moment," I said, "perhaps you wish to hear my report?"
    He grunted. "You found Heddleham Hall?"
    "I did—and if you choose I can get you there. Beside the Thames is a railway heading south, over the river and out of London. But first I should tell you about the defenses Lovelace has rigged up around his girlfriend's house. They are formidable. Airborne foliots patrol the surrounding countryside, while