Nathaniel compressed his lips. He glanced aside at the nearest display table. It had a few strange objects on it: stone bowls, bone pipes, and a large moth—eaten headdress, perhaps once worn by a North American shaman. All useless to him.
"I was for killing you straightaway," Schyler said, "but Simon is more farsighted than I am. He suggested we make you a proposition."
"Which is?" Nathaniel was looking at the next display table—it carried a few small, dull cubes of metal, wrapped in faded paper strips.
The magician followed his gaze. "Ah—you are admiring Miss Cathcart's collection? You will find nothing of power there. It is fashionable among rich and stupid commoners to have magical items in their houses, though quite unfashionable to know anything about them. Tcha! Ignorance is bliss. Sholto Pinn is always being pestered by society fools for trinkets like these."
Nathaniel shrugged. "You mentioned a proposition."
"Yes. In a few minutes the hundred most powerful and eminent ministers in the Government will be dead, along with our sainted Prime Minister. When Simon's new administration takes control, the lower magical orders will follow us unquestioningly, since we will be stronger than they. However, we are not numerous, and there will soon be spaces, vacancies to fill in the higher reaches of the Government. We shall require talented new magicians to help us rule. Great wealth and the relaxations of power await our allies. Well now, you are young, Mandrake, but we recognize your ability. You have the makings of a great magician. Join with us, and we shall provide you with the apprenticeship you have always craved. Think about it—no more experiments in solitude, no more bowing or scraping to fools who are scarcely fit to lick your boots! We will test and inspire you, we will draw out your talent and let it breathe. And one day, perhaps, when Simon and I are gone, you will be supreme…"
The voice trailed off, left the image hanging. Nathaniel was silent. Six years of frustrated ambition were etched into his mind. Six years of suppressed desire—to be recognized for what he was, to exercise his power openly, to go to Parliament as a great minister of State. And now his enemies were offering it all to him. He sighed heavily.
"You are tempted, John, I see that. Well, what do you say?"
He looked the old magician directly in the eye. "Does Simon Lovelace really think I will join him?"
"He does."
"After everything that has happened?"
"Even so. He knows how your mind works."
"Then Simon Lovelace is a fool."
"John—"
"An arrogant fool!"
"You must—"
"After what he has done to me? He could offer up the world and I'd refuse it.
Join him? I would rather die!"
Schyler nodded, as if satisfied. "Yes. I know. That is what I told him you'd say. I perceived you as you are—a silly, muddled child. Tcha! You have not been brought up correctly; your mind is fogged. You are of no use to us."
He took a step forward. His shoes squeaked on the shiny floor.
"Well, aren't you going to run, little boy? Your djinni is gone. You have no
other power. Would you not like a head start?"
Nathaniel did not run. He knew it would be fatal. He flicked a look at the other tables, but couldn't see clearly what objects they displayed; his enemy blocked the way to them.
"Do you know," the old man said, "I was impressed the first time we met—so young, so full of knowledge. I thought Simon was very harsh on you; even the affair with the mites was amusing and displayed an enterprising nature. Ordinarily I would kill you slowly—that would amuse me further. But we have important business in a few moments and I cannot spare the time."
The magician raised a hand and spoke a word. A shining black nimbus appeared, glimmering and fluctuating around his fingers.
Nathaniel threw himself to one side.
39
Bartimaeus
I hoped the boy could keep out of trouble long enough for me to reach him. Getting in was taking longer than I thought.
Up and down the wall the lizard scuttled; round cornices, over arches, across pilasters, its progress ever more speedy and erratic. Each window it came to—and there were plenty of them in the mansion—was firmly shut, causing it to flick its tongue in frustration. Hadn't Lovelace and Co. ever heard of the benefits of fresh air?
Many minutes went by. Still no luck. Truth was, I was loath to break in, except as a last resort. It was impossible to tell whether the rooms beyond had watchers who might respond to the slightest untoward noise. If I could only find a crack, a cranny to sneak through… But the place was too well sealed.
There was nothing for it: I would have to try a chimney.
With this in mind I headed roofward, only to have my attention caught by a very tall and ornate set of windows a little way off on a projecting wing of the house. They suggested a sizeable room beyond. Not only that, but a powerful network of magical bars crisscrossed the windows on the seventh plane. None of the Hall's other windows had such defenses. My curiosity was piqued.
The lizard sped across to take a look, scales scuffling on the stones. It gripped a column and poked its head toward the window, being careful to keep well back from the glowing bars. What it saw inside was interesting, all right. The windows looked onto a vast circular hall or auditorium, brightly lit by a dozen chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. At the center was a small raised podium draped with red cloth, around which a hundred chairs had been arranged in a neat semicircle. A speaker's stand stood on the podium, complete with glass and jug of water. Evidently this was the venue for the conference.
Everything about the auditorium's decor—from the crystal chandeliers to the rich gold trimmings on the walls—was designed to appeal to the magicians' (vulgar) sense of wealth and status. But the really extraordinary thing about the room was the floor, which seemed to be entirely made of glass. From wall to wall it glinted and gleamed, refracting the light of the chandeliers in a dozen unusual tints and shades. If this wasn't unusual enough, beneath the glass stretched an immense and very beautiful carpet. It was Persian made, displaying—amid a wealth of dragons, chimeras, manticores, and birds—a fantastically detailed hunting scene. A life—size prince and his court rode into a forest, surrounded by dogs, leopards, kestrels, and other trained beasts; ahead of them, among the bushes, a host of fleet—footed deer skipped away. Horns blew, pennants waved. It was an idealized Eastern fairy—tale court and I would have been quite impressed, had I not glanced at a couple of the faces of the courtiers. That rather spoiled the effect. One of them sported Lovelace's horrid mug; another looked like Sholto Pinn. Elsewhere, I spied my erstwhile captor, Jessica Whitwell, riding a white mare. Trust Lovelace to spoil a perfectly good work of art with such an ingratiating fancy.[103] No doubt the prince was Devereaux, the Prime Minister, and every important magician was pictured among his fawning throng.
This curious floor was not the only odd thing about the circular hall. All the other windows that looked onto it had shimmering defenses similar to the one through which I spied. Reasonable enough: soon most of the Government would be inside—the room had to be safe from attack. But hidden in the stonework of my window frame were things that looked like embedded metal rods, and their purpose was not at all clear.
I was just pondering this when a door at the far end of the auditorium opened and a magician walked swiftly in. It was the oily man I had seen passing in the car: Lime, the boy had called him, one of Lovelace's confederates. He carried an object in his hand, shrouded under a cloth. With hasty steps and eyes flicking nervously back and forth, he crossed to the podium, mounted it and approached the speaker's stand. There was a shelf inside the stand, hidden from the floor below, and the man placed the object inside it.
103
How the weavers of Basra must have loathed being commissioned to create such a monstrosity. Gone are the days when, with complex and cruel incantations, they wove djinn into the fabric of their carpets, creating artifacts that carried their masters across the Middle East