The Golem's Eye

remarkable work ethic of the traditional British workman. Even my master stopped frothing at the mouth for a moment in perplexity. We all edged nearer.
    "Surprise!" Up from behind the body of the car popped a smiling face. Well, it was grinning, really—skulls, as we know, don't really smile. Nevertheless, it exuded a certain irrepressible gaiety, which contrasted sharply with the lank white hair flecked with river slime, with the sodden black rags clogged upon its bones, with the fetid graveyard stench now floating on the breeze.
    "Uh-oh." Blindingly articulate, that's me.
    With a clacking of bones and a gleeful cry, Honorius the afrit leaped upon the bonnet of the car, femurs akimbo, hands on hip bones, skull cocked at a jaunty angle. From there, framed by the light of the new sun, he appraised us one by one.

45
     
    Kitty
     
    For the first seconds, Kitty was no longer in the cobbled lane, no longer breathing morning air; she was once more underground, trapped in a black crypt, with the taste of death in her mouth and her friends cut down before her eyes. The terror was the same, and the helplessness; she felt her strength and resolution shrivel into nothing, like scraps of paper consumed by fire. She could scarcely breathe.
    Her first thought was anger at the demon Bartimaeus. His claim to have destroyed the skeleton was now revealed as just another falsehood. Her second thought was for Jakob, who stood quivering beside her: because of her actions, he would die—she knew this with utter certainty, and hated herself for it.
    Most of the skeleton's clothing had fallen away; what little remained hung shapelessly upon the yellowed bones. The golden mask was missing; tiny red flames burned in the skull's dark sockets. Below, sunlight filtered between the ribs and out through the remnants of the jacket. The trousers and shoes were entirely gone. But the creature's energy was unchanged. It hopped from foot to foot with an appalling jerky swiftness.
    "Well, jolly nice, I call it." The merry voice rang clear as a bell from between the dangling teeth. "I couldn't have asked for more. Here I am, happy as a lamb, if a little damp about the cartilage, hard at work. What do I want? Simply to follow the scent of my lost possession, collect it and be off on my way. What do I find? My Staff—yes! Good as new—but more than that... Two other little lambs to play with—two lambs whom I've been thinking about long and hard, as I swilled around the estuary in the cold, cold water, and my beautiful clothes grew rotten on my bones. Oh, don't look so innocent, my dear"—the high voice dropped to a snarl, the skull jutted down toward Kitty—"you're one of them. The little mouse who disturbed my master's rest, who took his Staff and thinks it ladylike to carry vicious silver in her purse. You, I'll deal with last."
    The skeleton straightened with a bound, tapped its metatarsals on the limousine bonnet, and jerked out a finger toward Bartimaeus, who still wore the semblance of a dark-skinned boy. "Then there's you," it said, "the one who stole my face. The one who drowned me in the Thames. Oh, I'm most terrible mad at you."
    If it was anxious, the demon was doing a good job of hiding it. "I can understand that," it said coolly. "In fact, I'm a little disappointed myself. Mind telling me how you got here?"
    The skull gnashed its jaw in fury. "Merest chance saved me from oblivion," it whispered. "As I drifted, helpless in the current and the cold, cold dark, the crook of my elbow snagged in a rusted chain rising from an anchor in the riverbed. In an instant I had seized the chain in my fingers and my jaw; I fought against the pull of the ocean, clambered upward to the light. Where did I come out? An old barge, tethered for the night. As the cruel water dropped from my bones, my strength re turned. What did I want? Vengeance! But first, the Staff, to give me back my power. I crept along the shore by night and day, snuffling for its aura like a dog.... And today"—the voice erupted in sudden riotous delight—"I found it, traced it to this yard, waited here in coziness with that fellow on the floor." It indicated the chauffeur's body with a dismissive toe. "I fear he did not have good conversation."
    Bartimaeus nodded. "Humans aren't known for their wit. Very dull."
    "Aren't they, though?"
    "Deathly."
    "Mmm. Hey!" The skeleton collected itself indignantly. "You're trying to change the subject."
    "Not at all. You were saying you were