The Golem's Eye

here. In response to my undulating menace, he yawned, picked his teeth with a finger and began scribbling in a notepad. Is it me, or have kids today simply seen too much?
     
    The boy hardly paid any attention to me; he was too busy writing down some notes.
    "Ahem." The serpent of silver plumes gave a polite cough. "A-hem." Still no response. How impolite was this? You call someone up, then take them for granted. I coughed a little louder. "A-thaniel."
    That got a response. His head jerked up, then swiveled from side to side. "Shut up," he hissed. "Anyone could have heard that."
    "What is all this?" I said. "I thought we had a private thing going. Now every man and his imp are joining in."
    "It's top priority. We've got an insane demon on the loose. We need it destroyed."
    "It won't be the only mad thing about if you let this lot go." I flicked my tongue in a lefterly direction. "Check out that one at the end. He's taken the form of a footstool. Weird... but somehow I like his style."
    "That is a footstool. No one's using that pentacle. Now, listen. Things are moving fast. The Resistance have broken into Gladstone's tomb and freed the guardian of his treasures. It's at large in London, causing merry hell. You'll recognize it by its mildewed bones and general smell of decay. The Prime Minister wants it gone; that's why this group is being assembled."
    "All of us? It must be potent. Is it an afrit?" [2]

    [2] I'd had a few close encounters with Gladstone's afrits during his war of conquest and it was fair to say I wasn't anxious for another. They were a prickly lot, in general, made restless and aggressive by unpleasant treatment. Of course, even if this afrit had started out with the loving personality of a gentle babe (unlikely), it would not have been improved by a century's inhumation in a tomb.
     
    "We think so, yes. Powerful—and embarrassing. It was last seen gyrating Gladstone's pelvis on Horseguards' Parade. But listen, I want you to do something more. If you find the de—, the afrit, see if you can get any information concerning the Resistance: particularly about a girl called Kitty. I think she may have escaped with a precious Staff. The creature may be able to give a description."
    "Kitty..." The serpent's tongue flicked back and forth musingly. A Resistance girl of that name had crossed our paths before. If I remembered correctly, she was a feisty specimen with big trousers.... Well, several years on, her feistiness evidently hadn't failed her. [3]  I recalled something else. "Wasn't she the one who nicked your scrying-glass?"
     
    [3] I had no information on the trousers so far.
     
    He made his patented bulldog-who's-sat-on-a-thistle face. "Possibly."
    "And now she's pinched Gladstone's Staff... Talk about going up in the world."
    "There was nothing wrong with that scrying glass."
    "No, but you'll admit it'd never laid Europe to waste. That Staff's a formidable piece of work. And you say it's been lying in Gladstone's tomb all this time?"
    "Apparently." The boy glanced carefully around him, but all the neighboring magicians were busily delivering their charges to their slaves, shouting over the general caterwauling. He leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. "It's ridiculous!" he whispered. "Everyone's always been too scared to open the tomb. And now some bunch of commoners has made a fool of the whole government. But I intend to find the girl and rectify that."
    I shrugged my hood. "You could always just wish her well and leave her alone."
    "And let her sell the Staff to the highest bidder? Don't make me laugh!" My master bent closer. "I think I can track her down. And when I do... well, I've read a lot about that Staff. It's powerful, all right, but its Words of Command were fairly straightforward. It needs a strong magician to control it, but in the right hands— who knows what it could achieve?" He straightened impatiently. "What's the delay here? They should be giving the general order to move off. I've got more important things to do."
    "They're waiting for Buttercup there in the corner to finish his incantation."
    "Who? Tallow? What's that idiot playing at? Why doesn't he just summon his green monkey thing?"
    "Judging by the amount of incense he's employed, and the size of that book he's holding, he's going for something big."
    The boy grunted. "Trying to impress everyone with a higher-level demon, I suppose. Typical. He'd do anything to keep Whitwell's favor."
    The winged serpent swayed