The Amulet of Samarkand

let him suffer too. Why had Nathaniel put the Amulet in the study in the first place, if not to protect himself when Lovelace came? He would stay out of the way, as the djinni had said. Get ready to run, if necessary...
    Nathaniel's head sank into his hands.
    He could not run. He could not hide. That was the advice of a demon, treacherous and sly. Running and hiding were not the actions of an honorable magician. If he let his master face Lovelace alone, how would he live with himself again? When his master suffered, Mrs. Underwood would suffer too and that would be impossible to bear. No, there was no help for it. Now that the crisis was upon him, Nathaniel found, to his surprise and horror, that he had to act. Regardless of the consequences, he had to intervene.
    Even to think of doing what he now did made him physically sick. Nevertheless he managed it, little by little, step by dragging step. Out from behind the door, across the landing, along toward the study stairs... Down the stairs, one at a time...
     
    With every step, his common sense screamed at him to turn and flee, but he resisted. To run would be to fail Mrs. Underwood. He would go in there and tell the truth, come what may.
    The door was open, the fiery hex defused. Yellow light spilled from inside.
    Nathaniel paused at the threshold. His brain seemed to have shut down. He did not fully understand what he was about to do.
    He pushed at the door and went in, just in time to witness the moment of discovery.
    Lovelace and Underwood were standing by a wall cupboard with their backs to him. The cupboard doors gaped wide. Even as he watched, Lovelace's head craned forward eagerly like a hunting cat's, and his hand stretched out and knocked something aside. He gave a cry of triumph. Slowly, he turned and raised his hand before Underwood's corpse-white face.
    Nathaniel's shoulders slumped.
    How small it looked, the Amulet of Samarkand, how insignificant it seemed, as it hung from Lovelace's fingers on its slender gold chain. It swung gently, glinting in the study light.
    Lovelace smiled. "Well, well. What have we here?"
    Underwood was shaking his head in confusion and disbelief. In those few seconds, his face had aged.
    "No," he whispered. "A trick... You're framing me...."
    Lovelace wasn't even looking at him. He gazed at his prize. "I can't imagine what you thought you could do with this," he said. "Summoning Bartimaeus on its own would have been quite enough to wear you out."
    "I keep saying," Underwood said weakly, "I don't know anything about this Bartimaeus, and I know nothing about your object, nor how it got there."
    Nathaniel heard a new voice speaking, high and shaky. It was his own.
    "He's telling the truth," he said. "I took it. The person that you want is me."
    The silence that followed this statement lasted almost five seconds. Both magicians spun round on the instant, only to stare at him openmouthed in shock. Mr. Underwood's eyebrows rose high, sank low, then rose again, mirroring his utter bewilderment. Lovelace wore an uncomprehending frown.
    Nathaniel took the opportunity to walk farther into the room. "It was I," he said, his voice a little firmer now that the deed was done. "He knows nothing about it. You can leave him alone."
     
    Underwood blinked and shook his head. He seemed to doubt the evidence of his senses. Lovelace remained quite still, his hidden eyes fixed on Nathaniel. The Amulet of Samarkand swung gently between his motionless fingers.
    Nathaniel cleared his throat, which was dry. What would happen now he dared not guess. He had not thought beyond his confession. Somewhere in the room his servant lurked, so he was not entirely defenseless. If necessary, he hoped Bartimaeus would come to his aid.
    His master found his voice at last. "What are you gibbering about, you fool? You can have no idea what we discuss. Leave here at once!" A thought occurred to him. "Wait—how did you get out of the room?"
    At his side, Lovelace's frown suddenly fractured into a twitching smile. He laughed quietly. "A moment, Arthur. Perhaps you are being too hasty."
    For an instant, a fleeting glimpse of Underwood's irascibility returned. "Don't be absurd! This stripling cannot have committed the crime! He would have had to bypass my fire-hex, for a start, not to mention your own defenses."
    "And raise a djinni of the fourteenth level," murmured Lovelace. "That too."
    "Exactly. The notion is abs—" Underwood gasped. Sudden understanding dawned in his