The Golem's Eye

cheeks flushed red. "I had little choice, Bartimaeus—"
    "Don't give me anything about choice," I snapped. "She could have chosen to let you die."
    He stamped his foot. "I'm not going to have you criticizing my actions—"
    "Actions nothing. It's your morals I object to."
    "Still less my morals! You're the demon, remember? Why should it matter to you?"
    "It doesn't matter!" I was standing, arms folded now. "It doesn't matter at all. The fact that a humble commoner was more honorable than you'll ever be is hardly my affair. You do what you like."
    "I will!"
    "Fine!"
    "Fine!"
    For a few moments there, we'd both been winding ourselves up into fullblown fury, ready to go at it hammer and tongs, but somehow our hearts weren't in it.
    After an interlude of his staring at a corner of the fireplace and my gazing at a crack in the ceiling, the boy broke the silence. "If it's of any interest to you," he growled, "I've spoken to Devereaux and have gotten Kavka's children released from prison. They're back in Prague now. Cost me a few favors to get that done, but I did it."
    "How noble of you." I was in no mood to pat his back.
    He scowled. "They were low-level spies anyway. Not worth keeping."
    "Of course." Another silence. "Well," I said finally. "All's well that ends well. You've got everything you wanted." I gestured across the empty room. "Look at the size of this place! You can fill it with all the silk and silver you desire. Not only that, you're more powerful than ever; the Prime Minister is once more in your debt; and you're out from under Whitwell's thumb."
    He looked a little happier at this. "That's true."
    "Of course, you're also completely friendless and alone," I went on, "and all your colleagues fear you and will want to do you harm. And if you get too power ful, the Prime Minister will get paranoid and find an excuse to bump you off. But hey, we've all got troubles."
    He eyed me balefully. "What a charming insight."
    "I'm full of them. And if you don't want any more, I advise you to dismiss me on the instant. Your six weeks are up, and that marks the end of my current bond. My essence aches and I'm tired of white emulsion."
    He gave a sudden curt nod. "Very well," he said. "I will honor our agreement."
    "Eh? Oh. Right." I was a little taken aback. In all honesty, I'd expected the usual bartering before he agreed to let me go. It's like making a purchase in an Eastern bazaar: haggling is inevitably the order of the day. But perhaps his betrayal of the girl had lodged in my master's mind.
     
    Whatever the reason, he silently led me up to his workroom on the second floor of the house. It was decked out with the basic pentacles and paraphernalia.
    We completed the initial procedure in stony silence.
    "For your information," he said cattily, as I stood within the pentacle, "you do not leave me entirely alone. I am off to the theater this evening. My good friend Quentin Makepeace has invited me to a gala premiere of his latest play."
    "How desperately thrilling."
    "It is." He did a dismal job of trying to look pleased. "Well, are you ready?"
    "Yep." I performed a formal salute. "I bid the magician John Mandrake farewell. May he live long and never summon me again.... By the way, notice something there?"
    The magician paused with his arms raised and his incantation at the ready. "What?"
    "I didn't say 'Nathaniel.' That's because I see you more as Mandrake now. The boy who was Nathaniel's fading, almost gone."
    "Good," he said crisply. "I'm glad you see sense at last." He cleared his throat. "So. Farewell, Bartimaeus."
    "Farewell." He spoke. I went. I didn't have time to tell him he'd kind of missed the point.

48
     
    Kitty
     
    Mrs. Hyrnek had said her good-byes up beyond the customs house, and Kitty and Jakob walked alone together down to the quay. The ferry was nearing departure; smoke rose from the funnels and a brisk breeze was furling the sails. The last of the travelers were ascending a gaily canopied gangway near the stern, while farther forward a troop of men carried the luggage aboard. Raucous gulls swooped in the sky.
    Jakob was wearing a white hat with a broad brim, tipped far forward to shade his face, and a dark brown traveling suit. He carried a small leather case in one gloved hand.
    "You've got your papers?" Kitty said.
    "For the tenth time, yes." He was still a little tearful after the parting from his mother, and this made him irascible.
    "It's not a long voyage," she said peaceably. "You'll be