The Amulet of Samarkand

Lovelace and his companions had scarcely moved: an elderly magician had imposed herself on their company and was jabbering away—to their vast impatience.
    Nathaniel took a sip of his drink and composed himself. He had not understood all he had heard, but Lovelace's fury was pleasingly evident. To find out more, he would have to summon Bartimaeus. Perhaps his slave was even here right now, trailing Lovelace.... Nothing showed up in his lenses, admittedly, but the djinni would have changed its form on each of the first four planes. Any one of these seemingly solid people might be a shell, concealing the demon within.
    He stood, lost in thought for a time, at the edge of a small group of magicians. Gradually, their conversation broke in on him.
    "...so handsome. Is he attached?"
    "Simon Lovelace? Some woman. I don't recall her name."
    "You want to stick clear of him, Devina. He's no longer the golden boy."
    "He's holding the conference next week, isn't he? And he's so good-looking...."
    "He had to suck up to Devereaux long and hard for that. No, his career's going nowhere fast."
    "The P.M.'s sidelined him. Lovelace tried for the Home Office a year ago, but Duvall blocked it. Hates him, can't recall why."
    "Duvall's got the P.M.'s ear, all right."
    "That's old Schyler with Lovelace, isn't it? Whatever did he summon to get a face like that? I've seen better-looking imps."
    "Lovelace chooses curious company for a minister, I'll say that much. Who's that greasy one?"
    "Lime, I think. Agriculture."
    "He's a queer fish...."
    "Where's this conference taking place, anyway?"
    "Some godforsaken place—outside London."
    "Oh no, really? How desperately tedious. We'll probably all be pitchforked by men in smocks."
    "Well, if that's what the P.M. wants..."
    "Dreadful."
    "So handsome, though..."
    "John—"
    "You are shallow, Devina; mind you, I'd like to know where he got that suit."
    "John!"
    Mrs. Underwood, her face flushed—perhaps with the heat of the room— materialized in front of Nathaniel. She grabbed his arm. "John, I've been calling and calling! Mr. Devereaux is about to make his speech. We need to go to the back; ministers only at the front. Hurry up."
    They slipped to the side as, with a clopping of heels and a shuffling of gowns, a vigorous herd instinct moved the guests toward a small stage, draped with purple cloth, that had been wheeled in from a side room. Nathaniel and Mrs. Underwood were buffeted uncomfortably in the general rush, and ended up at the back and to the side of the assembled audience, near the doors that opened out onto the river terrace. The number of guests had swelled considerably since they had arrived; Nathaniel estimated there were now several hundred contained within the hall.
    With a youthful spring, Rupert Devereaux bounded up onto the stage.
    "Ladies, gentlemen, ministers—how glad I am to see you here this evening...." He had an attractive voice, deep but lilting, full of casual command. A spontaneous round of cheers and clapping broke out. Mrs. Underwood nearly dropped her champagne glass in her excitement. By her side, Nathaniel applauded enthusiastically.
    "Giving a state address is always a particularly pleasant task for me," Devereaux continued. "Requiring as it does that I be surrounded by so many wonderful people..." More whoops and cheers erupted, fairly shaking the rafters of the ancient hall. "Thank you. Today I am pleased to be able to report success on all fronts, both at home and abroad. I shall go into more detail in a moment, but I can announce that our armies have fought the Italian rebels to a stalemate near Turin and have bunkered down for the winter. In addition, our alpine battalions have annihilated a Czech expeditionary force"—for a moment, his voice was drowned out in the general applause. "And destroyed a number of their djinn."
    He paused. "On the home front, concern has been expressed again about another outbreak of petty pilfering in London: a number of magical artifacts have been reported stolen in the last few weeks alone. Now, we all know these are the actions of a handful of traitors, small-time ne'er-do-wells of no consequence. However, if we do not stamp it out, other commoners may follow their lead like the brainless cattle they are. We will therefore take draconian measures to halt this vandalism. All suspected subversives will be detained without trial. I feel sure that with this extra power, Internal Affairs will soon have the ringleaders safely in