The Golem's Eye

raised a hasty finger. "Now look here—"
    "Give him your best shot."
    "I might just do that."
    "See what happens to you."
    "Hey, steady on," the djinni said. "This macho posturing is all very well, but leave me out of it, please. Why don't you two have an arm wrestle, or compare biceps or something? Work your tensions out that way."
    Nathaniel ignored him. "Bartimaeus," he began, "I order you—"
    At that moment something unexpected happened. Kavka stood up.
    "Stay where you are!" The mercenary's eyes swiveled, the sword point shifted.
    Kavka did not seem to have heard. He swayed slightly where he was, then tottered forward, away from the sofa, across the paper-strewn floor. His bare feet made little crunching noises as he trod upon the parchments. In a couple of steps he had reached the table. A bone-thin arm shot out and seized the golem manuscript from Nathaniel's loose grasp. He stood back, hugging it to his chest.
    The mercenary made as if to hurl his disc, but paused. "Put that down, Kavka!" he growled. "Think of your family—think of Mia."
    Kavka's eyes were closed; he was swaying again. He raised his face toward the ceiling. "Mia? She is lost to me."
    "Complete that paper tonight, and you will see her tomorrow, I swear it!"
    The eyes opened. They were dull, but lucid. "What matter? I will be dead by dawn. My life force is already drained away."
    A look of intense irritation had appeared on the mercenary's face. He was not the kind of man who enjoyed negotiation. "My employer assures me that they are safe and well," he said. "We can remove them from prison tonight and fly them to Prague by morning. Think hard—do you wish all this work to be wasted?"
    Nathaniel glanced at the djinni. It was shifting position slowly. The mercenary did not appear to have noticed. Nathaniel cleared his throat, sought to distract him further. "Don't listen to him, Kavka," he said. "He's lying."
    The mercenary flashed Nathaniel a look. "It is a matter of intense displeasure to me," he said, "that you were not caught this afternoon in the square. I gave the police the most careful instructions, yet still they bungled it. I should have tackled you myself."
    "You knew we were here?" Nathaniel said.
    "Of course. Your timing was most inappropriate. Another day or two and it would have been irrelevant—I'd have been back in London with the completed manuscript. Your investigations would have come to nothing. As it was, I needed to keep you occupied. Hence my tip-off to the police."
    Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "Who told you I'd be coming?"
    "My employer, of course," the mercenary said. "I told the Czechs and they followed that bumbling British agent around all day, knowing he would eventually lead them to you. Incidentally, they believe you to be in Prague to plant a bomb. But all that is academic now. They let me down."
    He had the sword and disc outstretched as he spoke, his eyes flicking between Nathaniel and the magician. Nathaniel's head was awhirl—hardly anyone had known he was coming to Prague, yet somehow the mercenary had been informed. Which meant... No, he had to concentrate. He saw Bartimaeus still inching sideways, subtle as a snail. A little farther and the djinni would be out of view, in just the right position to attack.
    "I see you found another foul traitor to replace Lovelace," he snapped.
    "Lovelace?" The man's brows flickered with mild amusement. "He was not my main employer even then. He was nothing but a sideshow, an amateur, much too eager for success. My master encouraged him, as far as it went, but Lovelace was not his only tool. Nor am I his only servant now."
    Nathaniel was beside himself with fury. "Who is it? Who do you work for?"
    "Someone who pays well. Surely that is obvious. You are a strange little magician."
    At that moment, the djinni, which had shuffled successfully to the fringes of the mercenary's gaze, raised its hand to strike. But in the same instant, Kavka acted. All this while, he had been standing beside Nathaniel, holding the golem parchment in his hands. Now, without a word, his eyes tight shut, he tensed suddenly, and ripped the manuscript in half.
    The effect was unexpected.
    An outpouring of magical force surged from the torn parchment and blasted around the cottage like an earthquake. Nathaniel was tossed into the air amid a maelstrom of flying objects: djinni, mercenary, table, sofa, paper, pens, splashing ink. For a split second Nathaniel could see the three visible planes