The Amulet of Samarkand

slowly.
    "Well, well, Simpkin," Sholto Pinn said, as he pushed shut the door with an ivory cane. "Entertaining a friend while I'm out, are we? While the cat's away..."
    "N-n-no, master, not at all." The sniveling wretch was touching his forelock and bowing and retreating as best he could. His swollen head was visibly shriveling. What an exhibition. I stayed where I was, cool as a cucumber, leaning against the wall.
    "Not a friend?" Sholto's voice was low, rich, and rumbling; it somehow made you think of sunlight shining on age-blackened wood, of jars of beeswax polish and bottles of fine red port.[6] It was a good-humored voice, seemingly always on the cusp of breaking into a throaty chuckle. A smile played on his thin, wide lips, but the eyes above were cold and hard. Close up he was even larger than I'd expected, a great white wall of a man. With his fur coat on, he might have been mistaken in bad light for a mammoth's backside.
     
    [6] No? Oh, well. It's the poet in me, I think .
     
    Simpkin had edged away against the front of the counter. "No, master. H-he is a messenger for you. H-h-he brings a message."
    "You stagger me, Simpkin! A messenger with a message! Extraordinary. So why didn't you take the message and send him on his way? I left you with plenty of work to do."
    "You did, master, you did. He has only just arrived!"
    "More extraordinary than ever! With my scrying glass, I have been watching you both chattering away like fishwives for the last ten minutes! What explanation can there be? Perhaps my eyesight is fading at last in my advanced old age." The magician drew his monocle out of a waistcoat pocket, screwed it into position over his left eye[7] and took a couple of steps forward, idly swinging his cane. Simpkin flinched but made no answer.
     
    [7] With the aid of their lenses, magicians can see clearly onto the second and third planes and blearily onto the fourth. Sholto was no doubt checking me out on these. Fortunately my imp-form extended to the fourth, so I was safe.
     
    "Well then." The cane suddenly swung in my direction. "Your message, imp, where is it?"
    I touched my forelock respectfully. "I entrusted it to my memory, sir. My master considered it too important to be inscribed on paper."
    "Is that so?" The eye behind the monocle looked me up and down. "And your master is...."
    "Simon Lovelace, sir!" I gave a smart salute and stood to attention. "And if you'll give me leave, sir, I shall relay his message now, then depart. I do not wish to take up any more of your time."
    "Quite so." Sholto Pinn drew closer and fixed me keenly with both eyes. "Your message—please proceed."
    "Simply this, sir. 'Dear Sholto, Have you been invited along to Parliament tonight? I've not—the Prime Minister seems to have forgotten me and I feel rather snubbed. Please respond with advice A.S.A.P. All the best for now, Simon.' Word for word, that is, sir, word for word." This sounded plausible enough to me, but I didn't want to push my luck. I saluted again and set off for the door.
    "Snubbed, eh? Poor Simon. Mmm." The magician considered a moment. "Before you go, what is your name, imp?"
    "Erm—Bodmin, sir."
    "Bodmin. Mmm." Sholto Pinn rubbed one of his chins with a thick, jeweled finger. "You're doubtless keen to get back to your master, Bodmin, but before you go I have two questions."
    Reluctantly I drew to a halt. "Oh—yes, sir."
    "What a polite imp you are, to be sure. Well, first—why would Simon not write down such a harmless note? It is hardly seditious and might well become mangled in the memory of a lesser demon such as yourself."
    "I have a very fine memory, sir. Renowned for it, I am."
    "Even so, it is out of character.... No matter. My other question..." And here Sholto moved a step or two closer and sort of loomed. He loomed very effectively. In my current shape I didn't half feel small. "My other question is this: why did Simon not ask my advice in person fifteen minutes ago, when I met him for a prearranged lunch?"
    Ah. Time to leave.
    I made a leap for the exit, but quick as I was, Sholto Pinn was quicker. He banged his cane on the floor and tilted it forward. A yellow ray of light shot from the end and collided with the door, sending out globular plasms that froze instantly against anything they touched. I somersaulted over them through a cloud of icy vapor and landed on the top of a display stand chock-full of satin undergarments. The staff let out another beam; before it hit I was already