"Prague's decadent."
"Prague's magicians are decadent. And they no longer rule. Look over there…" In one area of the library, the rotting shelves had fallen away. The walls there were muraled with layers of graffiti and carefully drawn hierogylphs. "Old Kingdom curses," Bartimaeus said. "You get a more informed class of delinquent round here. 'Death to the overlords' that big one says. That's you, Natty boy, if I'm not much mistaken."
Nathaniel ignored this; he was trying to organize his thoughts. "It's too dangerous to go to the authorities about Lovelace," he said slowly. "So there is only one alternative. I shall attend the conference myself and expose the plot there."
The djinni coughed meaningfully. "I thought we mentioned something about undue risk… Be careful—that idea sounds suicidal to me."
"Not if we plan carefully. First we need to know where and when the conference is taking place. That is going to be tricky… You will have to go out and discover this information for me." Nathaniel cursed. "But that will take time! If only I had some books and the proper incense, I could organize a troop of imps to spy on all the ministers at once! No—they would be hard to control. Or I could—"
The djinni had picked up the newspaper and was flipping through it. "Or you could just read the information printed here."
"What?"
"Here in the Parliament Circular. Listen: 'Wednesday, December second, Heddleham Hall. Amanda Cathcart hosts the Annual Parliamentary Conference and Winter Ball. In attendance, among others, the Right Honorable Rupert Devereaux, Angus Nash, Jessica Whitwell, Chloe Baskar, Tim Hildick, Sholto Pinn, and other members of the elite. "
Nathaniel snatched the paper and read it through. "Amanda Cathcart—that's got to be Lovelace's girlfriend. There's no doubt about it. This must be it."
"Pity we don't know where Heddleham Hall is."
"My scrying glass will find it." From his pocket, Nathaniel drew the bronze disc. Bartimaeus eyed it askance.
"I doubt it. It's a poor piece if ever I saw one."
"I made this."
"Yes."
Nathaniel passed his hand twice across the disc and muttered the invocation. At the third time of asking, the imp's face appeared, spinning as if on a roundabout. It raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
"Ain't you dead?" it said.
"No."
"Pity."
"Stop spinning," Nathaniel snarled. "I have a task for you."
"Hold on a sec," the imp said, screeching to a halt suddenly. "Who's that with you?"
"That's Bartimaeus, another of my slaves."
"He'd like to think as much," the djinni said.
The imp frowned. "That's Bartimaeus? The one from the Tower?"
"Yes."
"Ain't he dead?"
"No."
"Pity."
"He's a feisty one." Bartimaeus stretched and yawned. "Tell him to watch it. I pick my teeth with imps his size."
The baby made a skeptical face. "Yeah? I've eaten djinn like you for breakfast, mate."
Nathaniel kicked a foot against the floor. "Will you both just shut up and let me give my command? I'm in charge here. Right. Imp: I wish you to show me the building known as Heddleham Hall. Somewhere near London. Owned by a woman named Amanda Cathcart. So! Be gone about your errand!"
"Hope it ain't too far off, this hall. My astral cord's only so long, you know."
The disc clouded. Nathaniel waited impatiently for it to clear.
And waited.
"That is one slow scrying glass," Bartimaeus said. "Are you sure it's working?"
"Of course. It's a difficult objective, that's why it's taking time. And don't think you're getting off lightly, either. When we find the Hall, I want you to go and check it out. See if anything's going on. Lovelace may be setting some kind of trap."
"It would have to be a subtle one to fool all those magicians heading there on Wednesday. Why don't you try shaking it?"
"It works, I tell you! You see—here we go."
The imp reappeared, huffing and wheezing as if it was hideously out of breath. "What is it with you?" it panted. "Most magicians use their glasses to spy on people they fancy in the shower. But not you, oh no. That would be much too easy. I've never approached a place that's so well guarded. That Hall is almost as bad as the Tower itself. Hair—trigger nexuses, randomly materializing sentries, the lot. I had to retreat as soon as I got near. This is the best image I could get."
A very blurry image filled the center of the disc. It was possible to make out a smudgy brown building with several turrets or towers, surrounded by woodland, with a long drive approaching from one side. A couple of black dots could be seen moving rapidly through the sky behind the building.
"See those things?" the imp's voice remarked. "Sentries. They sensed me as soon as I materialized. That's them coming for me. Fast, aren't they? No wonder I had to skeddadle straight away."
The image disappeared; the baby took its place. "How was that?"
"Useless," Bartimaeus said. "We still don't know where the Hall is."
"That's where you're wrong." The baby's face assumed an inconceivably smug expression. "It's fifty miles due south of London and nine miles west of the Brighton railway line. A huge estate. Can't miss it. I may be slow, but I'm thorough."
"You may depart." Nathaniel passed his hand across the disc, wiping it clear again. "Now we're getting started," he said. "The amount of magical protection confirms that that must be where the conference is taking place. Wednesday… We've two days to get there."
The djinni blew out its cheeks rudely. "Two days till we're back at the mercy of Lovelace, Faquarl, Jabor, and a hundred wicked magicians who think you're an arsonist. Goody. Can't wait."
Nathaniel's face hardened. "We have an agreement, remember? All we need is proper planning. Go to Heddleham Hall now, get as close as you can, and find a way to get in. I shall wait for you here. I need to sleep."
"Humans really do have no stamina. Very welclass="underline" I shall go." The djinni rose.
"How long will it take you?"
"A few hours. I'll be back before nightfall. There's a curfew on and the spheres will be out, so don't leave this building."
"Stop telling me what to do! Just leave! Wait—before you go, how do I build up the fire?"
A few minutes later, the djinni departed. Nathaniel lay down on the floor close to the crackling flames. His grief and guilt lay down with him like shadows, but his weariness was stronger than both of them combined. In under a minute, he was asleep.
33
In his dream, he sat in a summer garden with a woman at his side. A pleasant feeling of peace was upon him: she was talking and he listened, and the sound of her voice mingled with the birdsong and the sun's touch upon his face. A book lay unopened on his lap, but he ignored it: either he had not read it, or he did not wish to do so. The woman's voice rose and fell; he laughed and felt her put an arm around his shoulders. At this, a cloud passed over the sun and the air chilled. A sudden gust of wind blew open the cover of the book and riffled its pages loudly. The woman's voice grew deeper; for the first time he looked in her direction… Under a mop of long blond hair, he saw the djinni's eyes, its leering mouth. The grip around his shoulders tightened, he was pulled toward his enemy. Its mouth opened—
He awoke in a twisted posture, one of his arms raised defensively across his face.
The fire had burned itself out and the light was dying in the sky. The library room was thick with shadow. Several hours must have passed since he had fallen asleep, but he did not feel refreshed, only stiff and cold. Hunger clamped his stomach; his limbs were weak when he tried to stand. His eyes were hot and dry.