The Amulet of Samarkand

catch—
    A key rattled in a lock. With a bang, the bedroom door burst open. Underwood stood there, his face pink with exertion and framed by a furious white mane of hair and beard. Nathaniel's arm dropped to his side; he turned to his master. The pigeon had vanished from the window.
    It took Underwood a moment to regain his breath. "Miserable boy! Who is controlling you? Which of my enemies?"
    Nathaniel could feel his whole body trembling, but he forced himself to stand stock-still and look his master in the eyes.
    "No one, sir. I—"
    "Is it Duvall? Or Mortensen? Or Lovelace?"
    Nathaniel's lip curled at the last name. "None of those, sir."
    "Who taught you to make the glass? Who told you to spy on me?"
    Despite his fear, anger flared in Nathaniel's heart. He spoke with contempt. "Will you not take my word? I have already said. There is no one."
    "Even now you continue your lies! Very well! Take a last look at this room. You will not be returning here. We will go to my study, where you will enjoy the company of my imps until your tongue is loosened. Come!"
    Nathaniel hesitated, but there was no help for it. His master's hand descended on his shoulder and clamped it like a vise. Almost bodily, he was propelled out of the door and down the attic stairs.
    On the first landing, Mrs. Underwood met them, in haste and out of breath. When she saw Nathaniel's hapless posture and the fury on her husband's face, her eyes widened with distress, but she did not comment.
    "Arthur," she panted, "there is a visitor to see you."
    "I haven't time. This boy—"
    "It's a matter of the greatest urgency, he says."
    "Who? Who says?"
    "Simon Lovelace, Arthur. He practically showed himself in."

27
     
    Underwood's brows lowered. "Lovelace?" he growled. "What does he want? Typical of him to turn up at the worst moment. Very well, I will see him. As for you—stop your wriggling!" Nathaniel was making sudden feverish movements, as if attempting to escape his grip. "You, boy, can wait in the box room until I'm ready to deal with you."
    "Sir—"
    "Not a word!" Underwood began to manhandle Nathaniel across the landing. "Martha, put on the kettle for our visitor. I shall be down in a few minutes. I need to tidy myself up."
    "Yes, Arthur."
    "Sir—please listen! It's important! In the study—"
    "Silence!" Underwood opened a narrow door and shoved Nathaniel through, into a small, cold room filled with old files and stacks of government papers. Without a backward glance, his master shut the door and turned the key. Nathaniel knocked on the wood and frantically called out after him.
    "Sir! Sir!" No one answered. "Sir!"
    "You're too kind." A large beetle with huge mandibles squeezed itself under the door. "I actually find sir a bit formal for my taste, but it's better than 'recreant demon.' "
    "Bartimaeus!" Nathaniel stepped back in shock; before his eyes, the beetle grew, distorted... the dark-skinned boy was standing in the room with him, hands on hips and head slightly to one side. As always, the form was a perfect replica: its hair shifted as it moved, the light glistened on the pores of its skin—it could not have been singled out as false from among a thousand true humans. Yet something about it—perhaps the soft, dark eyes that gazed at him—screamed out its alien otherness. Nathaniel blinked; he struggled to control himself. He felt the same disorientation he had experienced during their previous meeting.
    The false boy surveyed the bare floorboards and piles of junk. "Who's been a naughty little magician, then?" it said dryly. "Underwood's cottoned on to you at last, I see. He took his time."
    Nathaniel ignored him. "So it was you at the window," he began. "How did you—?"
    "Down a chimney, how d'you think? And before you say it, I know you didn't summon me, but things have been moving far too fast for me to wait. The Amulet—"
    Nathaniel was struck by a sudden horrified realization. "You—you've brought Lovelace here!"
    The boy seemed surprised. "What?"
    "Don't lie to me, demon! You've betrayed me! You've led him here."
    "Lovelace?" It looked genuinely taken aback. "Where is he?"
    "Downstairs. He's just arrived."
    "Nothing to do with me if he has. Have you been blabbing?"
    "Me? It was you—"
    "I've said nothing. I've got a tobacco tin to think of...." It frowned and appeared to be thinking. "It is a slight coincidence, I must admit."
    "Slight?" Nathaniel was practically hopping with agitation. "You've led him here, you fool! Now,