Despite his fear, anger flared in Nathaniel's heart. He spoke with contempt. "Will you not take my word? I have already said. There is no one."
"Even now you continue your lies! Very well! Take a last look at this room. You will not be returning here. We will go to my study, where you will enjoy the company of my imps until your tongue is loosened. Come!"
Nathaniel hesitated, but there was no help for it. His master's hand descended on his shoulder and clamped it like a vise. Almost bodily, he was propelled out of the door and down the attic stairs.
On the first landing, Mrs. Underwood met them, in haste and out of breath. When she saw Nathaniel's hapless posture and the fury on her husband's face, her eyes widened with distress, but she did not comment.
"Arthur," she panted, "there is a visitor to see you."
"I haven't time. This boy—"
"It's a matter of the greatest urgency, he says."
"Who? Who says?"
"Simon Lovelace, Arthur. He practically showed himself in."
27
Underwood's brows lowered. "Lovelace?" he growled. "What does he want? Typical of him to turn up at the worst moment. Very well, I will see him. As for you—stop your wriggling!" Nathaniel was making sudden feverish movements, as if attempting to escape his grip. "You, boy, can wait in the box room until I'm ready to deal with you."
"Sir—"
"Not a word!" Underwood began to manhandle Nathaniel across the landing. "Martha, put on the kettle for our visitor. I shall be down in a few minutes. I need to tidy myself up."
"Yes, Arthur."
"Sir—please listen! It's important! In the study—"
"Silence!" Underwood opened a narrow door and shoved Nathaniel through, into a small, cold room filled with old files and stacks of government papers. Without a backward glance, his master shut the door and turned the key. Nathaniel knocked on the wood and frantically called out after him.
"Sir! Sir!" No one answered. "Sir!"
"You're too kind." A large beetle with huge mandibles squeezed itself under the door. "I actually find sir a bit formal for my taste, but it's better than 'recreant demon. »
"Bartimaeus!" Nathaniel stepped back in shock; before his eyes, the beetle grew, distorted… the dark—skinned boy was standing in the room with him, hands on hips and head slightly to one side. As always, the form was a perfect replica: its hair shifted as it moved, the light glistened on the pores of its skin—it could not have been singled out as false from among a thousand true humans. Yet something about it—perhaps the soft, dark eyes that gazed at him—screamed out its alien otherness. Nathaniel blinked; he struggled to control himself. He felt the same disorientation he had experienced during their previous meeting.
The false boy surveyed the bare floorboards and piles of junk. "Who's been a naughty little magician, then?" it said dryly. "Underwood's cottoned on to you at last, I see. He took his time."
Nathaniel ignored him. "So it was you at the window," he began. "How did you—?"
"Down a chimney, how d'you think? And before you say it, I know you didn't summon me, but things have been moving far too fast for me to wait. The Amulet—"
Nathaniel was struck by a sudden horrified realization. "You—you've brought Lovelace here!"
The boy seemed surprised. "What?"
"Don't lie to me, demon! You've betrayed me! You've led him here."
"Lovelace?" It looked genuinely taken aback. "Where is he?"
"Downstairs. He's just arrived."
"Nothing to do with me if he has. Have you been blabbing?"
"Me? It was you—"
"I've said nothing. I've got a tobacco tin to think of…" It frowned and appeared to be thinking. "It is a slight coincidence, I must admit."
"Slight?" Nathaniel was practically hopping with agitation. "You've led him here, you fool! Now, quickly—get the Amulet! Get it away from the study, before Lovelace finds it!"
The boy laughed harshly. "Not a chance. If Lovelace is here, he'll have stationed a dozen spheres outside. They'll home in on its aura and be on me the moment I leave the building."
Nathaniel drew himself up. With his servant returned, he was not as helpless as before. There was still a chance to avoid disaster, providing the demon did as it was told. "I command you to obey!" he began. "Go to the study—"
"Oh, can it, Nat." The boy waved a weary and dismissive hand. "You're not in the pentacle now. You can't force me to obey each new order. Running off with the Amulet will be fatal, take it from me. How strong is Underwood?"
"What?" Nathaniel was nonplussed.
"How strong? What level? I assume from the size of that beard he's no great shakes, but I might be wrong. How good is he? Could he beat Lovelace? That's the point."
"Oh. No. No, I don't think so…" Nathaniel had little actual evidence either way, but his master's past display of servility to Lovelace left him in little doubt. "You think…"
"Your one chance is that if Lovelace finds the Amulet, he might want to keep the whole thing quiet. He may try to do a deal with Underwood. If he doesn't—"
Nathaniel went cold. "You don't think he'll—?"
"Whoops! In all this excitement I nearly forgot to tell you what I came for!" The boy put on a deep and plangent voice: "Know ye that I have devotedly carried out my charge. I have spied on Lovelace. I have sought the secrets of the Amulet. I have risked all for you, O my master. And the results are"—here it adopted a more normal, sardonic tone—"you're an idiot. You've no idea what you've done. The Amulet is so powerful it's been in government keeping for decades—until Lovelace had it stolen, that is. His assassin murdered a senior magician for it. In those circumstances, I don't think it's likely that he'll worry about killing Underwood to retrieve it, do you?"
To Nathaniel, the room seemed to spin. He felt quite faint. This was worse than anything he had imagined. "We can't just stand here," he stammered. "We've got to do something—"
"True. I'll go and watch developments. Meanwhile, you'd better stay here like a good little boy, and be ready for a quick exit if things get nasty."
"I'm not running anywhere." He said it in a small, small voice. His head was reeling with the implications. "Mrs. Underwood…"
"I'll give you a tip born of long experience. Running's good if your skin needs saving. Better get used to the idea, bud." The boy turned to the box room door and set the palm of one hand against it. With a despairing crack, the door split around the lock and swung open. "Go up to your room and wait. I'll tell you what happens soon enough. And be prepared to move fast."
With that, the djinni was gone. When Nathaniel followed, the landing was already empty.
28
Bartimaeus
"My apologies for the intrusion, Arthur," Simon Lovelace said.
Underwood had only just entered his long, dark dining room when I caught up with him—he'd spent a few minutes beside the lower landing mirror smoothing down his hair and adjusting his tie. It didn't make any difference: he still looked disheveled and moth—eaten beside the younger magician, who was standing beside the mantelpiece, examining his nails, as cold and tense as a coiled spring.
Underwood waved his hand in an airy attempt at magnanimity. "My house is yours, I'm sure. I am sorry for the delay, Lovelace. Won't you take a seat?"