The Amulet of Samarkand

Lime's gone, and no one's seen that red-bearded magician at any of the harbors or aerodromes. It's a real mystery. I'm sure Sholto Pinn's in on it, too, but I can't say anything about him, after what you did to his shop."
    "Yes," I said, putting my hands behind my head and speaking in a musing sort of way, "I suppose you do have rather a lot to hide. There's me, your 'minor imp,' and all my exploits. There's you, stealing the Amulet and framing your master...." He flushed at this and made a big show of going off to investigate the walk-in wardrobe. I got up and followed him. "By the way," I added, "I notice you gave Mrs. Underwood a starring role in your version of events. Helps salve your conscience, does it?"
    He spun round, his face reddened. "If you have a point," he snapped, "get to it."
    I looked at him seriously then. "You said you would revenge yourself on Lovelace," I said, "and you did what you set out to do. Perhaps that takes away a little of your pain—I hope so; I wouldn't know. But you also promised that if I helped you against Lovelace, you'd set me free. Well, help has been dutifully given. I think I saved your life several times over. Lovelace is dead and you're better off—in your eyes—than you've ever been before. So now's the time to honor your promise, Nathaniel, and let me go."
    For a moment he was silent. "Yes," he said, at last. "You did help me. You did save me."
    "To my eternal shame."
    "And I'm—" He halted.
    "Embarrassed?"
    "No."
    "Delighted?"
    "No."
    "A teensy bit grateful?"
    He took a deep breath. "Yes. I'm grateful. But that doesn't alter the fact that you know my birth name."
    It was time to iron this out once and for all. I was tired; my essence ached with the effort of nine days in the world. I had to go. "True," I said. "I know your name and you know mine. You can summon me. I can damage you. That makes us even. But while I'm in the Other Place, who am I going to tell? No one. You should want me to go back there. If we're both lucky, I won't even be summoned again during your lifetime. However, if I am"—I paused, gave a heavy sigh—"I promise I won't reveal your name."
    He said nothing. "You want it official?" I cried. "How about this? 'Should I break this vow, may I be trampled into the sand by camels and scattered among the ordure of the fields.'[2] Now I can't say fairer than that, can I?"
     
    [2] An old Egyptian vow. Be careful when you use it—it invariably comes true.
     
    He hesitated. For an instant, he was going to agree. "I don't know," he muttered. "You're a de—a djinni. Vows mean nothing to you."
    "You're confusing me with a magician! All right, then." I jumped back in anger. "How about this? If you don't dismiss me here and now, I'll go right downstairs and tell your dear Ms. Whitwell exactly what's been going on. She'll be very interested to see me in my true form."
    He bit his lip, reached for his book. "I could—"
    "Yes, you could do lots of things," I said. "That's your trouble. You're too clever for your own good. A lot has happened because you were too clever to let things lie. You wanted revenge, you summoned a noble djinni, you stole the Amulet, you let others pay the price. You did what you wanted, and I helped because I had to. And no doubt, with your cleverness, you could devise some new bond for me in time, but not quickly enough to stop me telling your master right now about you, the Amulet, Underwood, and me."
    "Right now?" he said quietly.
    "Right now."
    "You'd end up in the tin."
    "Too bad for both of us."
    For a few moments we held each other's gaze properly, perhaps for the first time. Then, with a sigh, the boy looked away.
    "Dismiss me, John," I said. "I've done enough. I'm tired. And so are you."
    He gave a small smile at this. "I'm not tired," he said. "There's too much I want to do."
    "Exactly," I said. "The Resistance... the conspirators... You'll want a free hand trying to hunt them down. Think of all the other djinn you'll need to summon as you embark on your great career. They won't have my class, but they'll give you less lip."
    Something in that seemed to strike a chord with him. "All right, Bartimaeus," he said finally. "I agree. You'll have to wait while I draw the circle."
    "That's no problem!" I was eagerness itself. "In fact, I'll gladly entertain you while you do it! What would you like? I could sing like a nightingale, summon sweet music from the air, create a thousand heavenly scents.... I suppose I could even juggle a