The Golem's Eye

landing lightly in the center of its circle. Its paws were empty, except for its cap, which it held in fully humble pose.
    "Yep, that's the kind of servant you need," the panther said. "No chatter. Obedient. Absolutely useless. You wait: it'll have forgotten its charge."
    Ms. Whitwell gave an impatient signal. "Shubit—you have been to the Lovelace collection?"
    "Madam, I have."
    "Is a clay eye among the items?"
    "No, madam. It is not."
    "Was it among the goods labeled in the inventory?"
    "It was. Number thirty-four, madam. 'A clay eye of nine centimeters width, decorated with cabalistic symbols. Purpose: golem's watch-eye. Origin: Prague.' "
    "You may depart." Ms. Whitwell spun her chair back to face the others. "So," she said. "There was such an eye. Now it is gone."
    Nathaniel's face flushed with excitement. "It can't be a coincidence, ma'am. Someone's stolen it and put it to use."
    "But did Lovelace have the animating parchment in his collection?" Tallow asked irritably. "Of course not! So where'd that come from?"
    "That," Jessica Whitwell said, "is what we need to find out." She rubbed her slender white hands together. "Gentlemen, we have a new situation. After tonight's debacle, Duvall will press the Prime Minister for greater powers at my expense. I must go to Richmond now and prepare to speak against him. In my absence, I wish you, Tallow, to continue organizing surveillance. Doubtless, the golem—if that is what it is—will strike again. I now entrust this to you alone."
    Mr. Tallow nodded smugly. Nathaniel cleared his throat. "You, er, you no longer wish me to be involved, ma'am?"
    "No. You are walking a tightrope, John. I entrusted you with great responsibility—and what happens? The National Gallery and British Museum are ransacked. However, thanks to your demon, we do have a clue to the nature of our enemy. Now we need to know the identity of whoever controls it. Is it a foreign power? A local renegade? The theft of the golem's eye suggests that someone has discovered the means to create the animating spell. That must be where you start. Seek out the lost knowledge, and do so quickly."
    "Very well, ma'am. Whatever you say." Nathaniel's eyes were glazed in doubt. He had not the first idea how to begin this task.
    "We shall attack the golem through its master," Ms. Whitwell said. "When we find the source of the knowledge, we will find the face of our enemy. And then we can act decisively." Her voice was harsh.
    "Yes, ma'am."
    "This djinni of yours seems useful...." She contemplated the panther, which was sitting washing its paws with its back to them, studiously ignoring the conversation.
    Nathaniel made a grudging face. "It's all right, I suppose."
    "It survived the golem, which is more than anything else has done. Take it with you."
    Nathaniel paused a moment. "Sorry, ma'am, I don't think I understand. Where do you want me to go?"
    Jessica Whitwell stood, ready to depart. "Where do you think? The historic home of all golems. The place, where, if anywhere, the lore must have been preserved. I wish you to go to Prague."

18
     
    Kitty
     
    Kitty rarely allowed considerations beyond the group to impinge upon her, but on the day after the rains ceased, she took a trip to see her parents again.
    That evening, at their emergency meeting, the Resistance would to learn about the great new hope, the biggest job they had ever undertaken. The details remained to be discovered, but an air of almost painful anticipation prevailed at the shop, a weight of excitement and uncertainty that made Kitty beside herself with agitation. Bowing to her restlessness, she departed early, bought a small bunch of flowers from a kiosk, and took the crowded bus to Balham.
    The street was as quiet as ever, the little house trim and neat. She knocked loudly, fumbling for her keys in her bag while supporting the flowers as best she could between shoulder and chin. Before she located them, a shadow approached behind the glass and her mother opened the door, peering around it hesitantly.
    Her eyes came alive. "Kathleen! How lovely! Come in, love."
    "Hi, Mum. These are for you."
    An awkward ritual of kissing and hugging ensued, mingled with the flowers being inspected and Kitty's attempting to squeeze past into the hall. At last, with difficulty, the door was shut and Kitty was ushered up and along to the familiar small kitchen, where potatoes were bubbling on the cooker and her father was sitting at the table polishing his shoes. With