The Golem's Eye

fail to escape its mark. I know this."
    "How?" Kitty asked sharply. "Are you a magician?"
    The old man winced. "Please, you may insult me in any way you please—say I am bald, ugly, an old fool who smells of cabbage, or what you will, but do not call me that. It offends my soul. I am certainly not a magician. But it is not only magicians who have knowledge, Ms. Jones. Others of us can read, even if we are not steeped in wickedness like them. Do you read, Ms. Jones?"
    Kitty shrugged. "Of course. At school."
    "No, no, that is not proper reading. The magicians write the books you see there; you cannot trust them. However, I digress. Trust me—the Black Tumbler taints everything it touches. It touched you, you say, but you were not tainted. That is a paradox."
    Kitty thought of Jakob's marbled face and felt a wave of guilt. "I can't help that."
    "This demon that attacked you just now. Describe it."
    "Blackish wings. A big red mouth. Two thin, straight horns—"
    "A broad belly, covered in fur? No tail?"
    "That's right."
    He nodded. "A mouler. A minor demon of no great power. Even so, it should certainly have rendered you unconscious, owing to its disgusting smell."
    Kitty wrinkled her nose. "It smelled bad for sure, but not that bad."
    "Also, moulers do not usually burst. They latch on to your hair with their hands and remain attached until their master dismisses them."
    "This one just popped."
    "My dear Ms. Jones, you must forgive me if I am cheerful again. You see, I am delighted with what you are telling me. It means, quite simply, that you possess something special: a resilience to magic."
    He sat back in his chair, summoned a waiter and smilingly ordered another round of drinks and cakes, oblivious to Kitty's look of bafflement. For the entire time it took for the food to arrive he did nothing but grin across the table at her, giggling to himself every now and then. Kitty forced herself to remain polite. The cash was still out of reach, in his coat pocket.
    "Mr. Pennyfeather," she said at last. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand you at all."
    "It's obvious, surely? Minor magic—we can't be sure about more powerful stuff yet—has little or no effect on you."
    Kitty shook her head. "Rubbish. The Black Tumbler knocked me out."
    "I said little or no effect. You are not immune. Neither for that matter am I, but I have withstood the assault of three foliots at once, which I believe is quite unusual."
    This meant nothing to Kitty. She looked blank. Mr. Pennyfeather made an impatient gesture. "What I am saying is that you and I— and several others, for we are not alone—are able to resist some of the magicians' spells! We are not magicians, but neither are we powerless, unlike the rest of the commoners"—he spat the word out with undisguised venom—"in this poor, godforsaken country."
    Kitty's head was spinning, but she was still skeptical; she did not believe him yet.
    "It doesn't make any sense to me," she said. "I've never heard of this 'resilience.' All I'm interested in is avoiding jail."
    "Is that so?" Mr. Pennyfeather placed his hand lightly inside his jacket. "In that case you may have the money on the instant and be on your way. Fine. But I think you want something more than this. I see it in your face. You want several things. You want revenge for your friend Jakob. You want to change the way things are done here. You want a country where men like Julius Tallow don't flourish and walk tall. Not all countries are like this—some places have no magicians! None! Think of that next time you visit your friend in the hospital. I'm telling you," he went on in a quieter voice, "you can make a difference. If you listen to me."
    Kitty gazed into the mess at the bottom of her cup and saw Jakob's ruined face reflected back. She sighed. "I don't know..."
    "Be sure of one thing—I can help you with your vengeance."
    She stared up at him. Mr. Pennyfeather was smiling at her, but his eyes had the same bright, angry gleam that she had seen when he had been jostled in the street.
    "The magicians have hurt you," he said softly. "Together, we can wield the sword of retribution. But only if you assist me first. You help me. I help you. Fair bargain."
    For an instant Kitty saw Tallow again, smirking across the courtroom, puffed up with self-confidence and the guaranteed protection of his friends. It made her shudder with disgust.
    "First tell me how you need my help," she said.
    Somebody sitting two tables away coughed