The Golem's Eye

smiled, drew the glass to his lips. "Head of Internal Affairs, and he misreads his own book. Dear me. What hope do we have? Well, we shall see whether my department can shed any light on the Resistance, when it is given its extra powers." He took a short swig, emptied the glass in one. "I shall first suggest—"
    Without sound, smell, or other theatrical device, the pentacle was occupied once more. The small, apologetic man was back again, this time with two bear's paws instead of feet. He carried an object delicately in both hands. A bedraggled cat—limp and comatose.
    He opened his mouth to speak, then—remembering his affectation of humility—dropped the cat so that it swung from one hand by its tail. He used the other hand to doff his cap in appropriately servile manner. "Madam," he began, "we found this specimen in the space between two broken beams; in a small pore, it was, madam; tucked right in. We overlooked it the first time."
    Ms. Whitwell frowned with distaste. "This thing... is it worthy of our attention?"
    Nathaniel's lenses, like his master's, could shed no further light: to him, it was a cat on all three planes. Nevertheless, he guessed what he was seeing, and it seemed dead. He bit his lip.
    The small man made a face; he swung the cat back and forth by its tail. "Depends on what you call 'worthy,' madam. It is a djinni of a disreputable cast, that's certain. Ugly, unkempt; it gives off an unpleasant stench on the sixth plane. Furthermore—"
    "I assume," Ms. Whitwell interrupted, "that it is still alive."
    "Yes, madam. It requires merely an appropriate stimulus to awake."
    "See to it, then you may depart."
    "Gladly." The small man tossed the cat unceremoniously upward; he pointed, spoke a word. A jarring arc of green electricity erupted from his finger, caught the cat head-on, and held it, jerking and dancing in midair, all its fur extended. The small man clapped his hands and descended into the floor. A moment passed. The green electricity vanished. The cat plummeted to the center of the pentacle, where in defiance of all normal laws it landed on its back. It lay there a moment, legs pointing outward in four directions from amid a ball of static fluff.
    Nathaniel rose to his feet. "Bartimaeus!"
    The cat's eyes opened; they bore an indignant expression. "No need to shout." It paused and blinked. "What's happened to you?"
    "Nothing. You're upside down."
    "Oh." With a flurry of motion, the cat righted itself. It glanced around the room, noticing Duvall, Whitwell, and Tallow sitting impassively in their highbacked chairs. It scratched itself carelessly with a hind leg. "Got company, I see."
    Nathaniel nodded. Beneath his black coat he was crossing his fingers, praying that Bartimaeus did not choose to reveal anything inappropriate, such as his name. "Be careful how you answer me," he said. "We are among the great." He made the warning sound as portentous as possible for his superiors' sake.
    The cat looked silently at the other magicians for a moment. It raised a paw, leaned forward conspiratorially. "Between you and me, I've seen greater."
    "So, I imagine, have they. You look like a pompom with legs."
    The cat noticed its fluffy condition for the first time. It gave a hiss of annoyance and changed instantly; a black panther sat in the pentacle, smooth-furred and gleaming of coat. It flicked its tail neatly around its paws. "So then, you wish my report?"
    Nathaniel held up a hand. Everything depended on what the djinni would say. If it did not have strong insight into the nature of their adversary, his position was vulnerable indeed. The level of destruction at the British Museum paralleled that in Piccadilly the week before, and he knew that a messenger imp had already visited Ms. Whitwell, communicating the Prime Minister's wrath. That boded ill for Nathaniel. "Bartimaeus," he said, "we know this much. Your signal was seen outside the museum last night. I arrived soon afterward, along with others from my department. Disturbances were heard inside. We sealed off the museum."
    The panther extended its claws and tapped the floor meaningfully. "Yes, I kind of noticed that."
    "At approximately 1:44 A.M., one interior wall of the east wing was seen to collapse. Soon afterward, something unknown broke through the security cordon, killing imps in the vicinity. We have since searched the area. Nothing was found, except yourself—in an unconscious condition."
    The panther shrugged. "Well, what do you expect