The Golem's Eye

desire: food, hot wines, restoratives... Ask, and it shall be done!"
    She shook her head. "I want none of your magical filth."
    "Surely you have need of something? Bandages? Sweet herbs? Whisky? Bartimaeus can produce it all in the blink of an eye." [5]

    [5] Again, a bit of an overstatement here, unless you had a particularly gummy, rheumatic eye that took a while to unstick. Given a precise command and a partial retraction of my current charge, I can certainly dematerialize, materialize elsewhere, locate the necessary objects, and return, but this is bound to take a good few seconds—or more if the objects are hard to track down. I cannot just spirit things out of thin air. That would be silly.
     
    "No." She was hard-faced, unmoved by his blandishments. "What is your proposal? I assume you want the Staff."
    Nathaniel's complexion changed a little at the word; perhaps he was disconcerted by her bluntness, magicians being rarely that honest and direct. He nodded slowly. "You have it?" His body was stiff with tension; he did not breathe.
    "I do."
    "Can it be swiftly secured?"
    "It can."
    He exhaled then. "Good. Good. Then here is my proposal. I have a car waiting below. Take me to the location of the Staff and entrust it into my care. Once I have it safely, you and Hyrnek will be given safe conduct anywhere you choose. This amnesty will last for a day. I assume you will wish to leave the country, and that will give you time to do so. Think carefully on my words! This is a handsome offer to an unregenerate traitor such as yourself. Others in the government, as you have seen, would not be so kind."
    The girl was unconvinced. "What surety do I have that you will keep your word?"
    He smiled, plucked a speck of dust from a sleeve. "None. You will have to trust me."
    "Hardly likely."
    "What choice do you have, Ms. Jones? You are already in something of a corner. A savage demon stands guard over you—"
    She looked from side to side in puzzlement. I coughed. "That's me," I said.
    "—and you have me to contend with too," my master went on. "I will not underestimate you again. In fact," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I'm curious to know the source of your magical defenses. Very curious, in fact. Where did you get them from? Who gave them to you?" The girl said nothing. "If you share this information with me," Nathaniel said, "if you talk candidly about your time in the Resistance, I will do more than set you free." He stepped forward then, put out a hand to touch her arm. She flinched, but did not pull away. "I can give you wealth, too," he said. "Yes, and status beyond your wildest dreams. Commoners such as yourself—with brains, bravery, and aptitude to spare—can win roles at the heart of government, positions of real power. That's no secret. You will work daily with the great ones of our society, and learn such things that will make your head spin. I can take you away from the drabness of your life, give you glimpses into the marvelous past, the days when the magician-emperors bestrode the world. Then you can become part of our own great story. When the current wars are won, for instance, we shall establish a renewed Colonial Office in America, and will need intelligent men and women to enforce our will. They say there are vast estates to be won out there, Ms. Jones, tracts of land with nothing on them but beasts and a few savages. Imagine—you as a great lady of the Empire..."
    She moved aside then; his hand dropped from her arm. "Thank you, but I do not think that will suit me."
    He scowled. "A pity. What of my first proposal? Do you accept?"
    "I wish to talk with Jakob."
    "There he stands." Casually, the magician walked away a short distance. I stepped back, too. The girl drew close to Hyrnek.
    "Are you truly all right?" she whispered. "You are so silent."
    The foliot relaxed its hold on his throat, but flexed its talons before his face as a gentle reminder. He nodded weakly. "I'm fine. Fine."
    "I am going to accept Mr. Mandrake's offer. Do you have anything to say?"
    The weakest of smiles. "No, no, Kathleen. You can trust him."
    She hesitated, nodded, turned away. "Very well, then. Mr. Mandrake, I assume you wish to delay no longer. Where is your car? I will take you to the Staff."
     
     
    During the journey, Nathaniel was a ripe old mix of emotions. Excitement, agitation, and downright fear mingled unappetizingly in his countenance; he could not sit still, fidgeting on his seat, turning repeatedly to