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The library was your typical, slightly shabby repository of knowledge that most magicians would never dream of setting foot within. You’d think public libraries were the bane of their existence, honestly, the way some of them reacted1. 1. Pale, shaking, the whole nine yards. You’d think they’d have come down with the flu. You would not believe the number of masters I’ve served2 2. Five. who have made it their personal mission to hobble the public library system, and that’s not counting all the others who looked down on the whole idea of freedom of information3. 3. All of them but one.
So you can imagine my surprise when my master’s limo pulled up outside this rundown library, and how that surprise increased exponentially when she proceeded to climb the steps and actually deign to enter the front doors4. 4. I was a winged serpent at the time and when I say my jaw dropped, I mean I literally unhinged the thing and let it flap quite unbecomingly.
It was stuffy in there, and dimly lit, and had that general air of a place that most people have done their best to forget about entirely. The old crone at the front desk looked so ancient I thought she might be dead5. 5. I’ve seen mummies in better condition.My master took a chance on her anyway, striding right up to the counter to ring the bell with as much disdain as she could manage. The crone blinked up at her, straightened creakily, and croaked, “What can I do for you?”
The utter lack of fawning only made my master’s scowl deepen. She tapped her toe against the floor twice and said briskly, “Nathaniel Wright. Where is he?”
The old crone thought for an amusingly long time before stretching one shaky finger to her left. “You can usually find him in history,” she suggested, before sagging back into her chair and closing her eyes like an oracle who has just completed her divination.
My master sniffed derisively, spun on her heel, and strode off towards the shelves. I followed at a short distance, flying lazy loops overhead, already bored out of my mind. As far as I could tell, this was going to be yet another routine job: corner the poor fellow, prevent his escape, and escort him back to the Tower of London for an official interrogation. Yawn. I could, and had, done this sort of thing in my sleep6. 6. Don’t tell my master.
If there was anyone else in this dusty old library besides the crone and my master’s target, I did not see them from my viewpoint over the shelves. I did, however, catch sight of Mr. Nathaniel Wright almost immediately. He was located halfway down an aisle, leaning lazily against a shelf as he flipped through pages of an old book. To my surprise, he wasn’t any older than my master--just a kid with dark hair flopping over his eyes.
My second impression was that his self-preservation skills were clearly lacking. The kid didn’t even look up at my master’s clicking footsteps, not until she stopped in front of him and cleared her throat meaningfully. Only then did he glance up with a touch of irritation that was immediately swallowed up in horror as he took in my master’s sharp coat, beady eyes, and exaggerated scowl7. 7. Just why she thought that scowl made her look more intimidating, I will never know. I certainly told her enough times that it made her look more akin to a gargoyle than usual.
“Nathaniel Wright?”
The kid gulped visibly, slowly closing the volume in his hands. “Yes?”
“I am Ann Mandrake of Internal Affairs. I am going to require you to come with me.”
Now many commoners, the timid and obedient ones, would fold immediately. This kid, despite his initial reaction, had more stones than that. He gulped again, clutching the book against his chest, but asked in a strengthening voice, “What for?”
My master’s nose wrinkled. “You are wanted for questioning in connection to a series of deaths among high-ranking magicians.”
“Deaths?” he repeated, and now he sounded downright incredulous. “I’m a librarian. How would I know anything about the deaths of magicians?” There was a pause, before he belatedly added, “Begging your pardon.”
I liked this kid. Not many dared to contradict my master like this. In just a few words, he had turned this routine job into something just a touch more interesting. I flew lower to get a better view of the exchange, settling on a shelf to the right of my master and changing form to that of a little grinning gnome so I could prop my head in my hands. Both of them ignored me; my master because she was used to my antics and the kid because I was invisible and he had no idea I was even there8. 8. Rude.
My master wasn’t in the mood to play games with the kid. “Are you going to come quietly or do I need to summon my demon, Nathaniel?”
“It’s Nate,” said the kid.
My master’s eyes narrowed.
“I have a right to know why you think I am involved,” the kid added.
Usually, this was the point where my master would bring me in. Disappointing, as I was quite enjoying the current show, but I could always hope the kid continued his pestering comments on the ride to the Tower.
But for reasons utterly unbeknownst to me, my master didn’t call on me. Her scowl deepening, she answered, “You are an associate of both Jakob Hyrnek and Nicholas Drew.”
“So?”
“Nicholas Drew is a known member of the Resistance.”
The kid’s eyebrows shot up in a very poor show of acting. “Is that so?”
“And the altered Alexandrian spellbooks9 9. Printing “errors” in the affected spellbooks had resulted in the deaths of at least 4 highly-ranked magicians thus far. Best news I’d gotten in years. have been traced back to the Hyrnek and Sons printing press.”
He held his own book closer to his chest. “An interesting coincidence,” he offered, before remembering to add, “I assume altered spellbooks have something to do with those deaths you’re investigating.”
My master was very unimpressed. “Your connections are enough to bring you in for questioning. Obviously, if it turns out you are indeed innocent, you will be released from custody. You should have nothing to fear, Nathaniel, if you are as innocent as you claim.”
To which the kid responded, quite insightfully, “Commoners always have something to fear when magicians are involved.”
And then he followed up his grand statement with an explosion.
Now, I saw the attack coming. I’d been completely captivated by the entire exchange. It was easy enough to notice how, when the kid clutched his book to his chest, one hand slipped into the pocket of his vest. And I certainly noticed the way he tensed up right before he flung the flash-bomb in my master’s face.
Did I bother to jump down and stop him? Of course not10.10. Don’t be silly. This was already more entertaining than anything I’d seen in the past twenty-six years.
The flash-bomb exploded in a blinding burst of light. Nate, knowing what was about to happen, had shut his eyes and twisted around to protect his vision. My master, who despite appearances was clever enough to notice that an attack was about to happen, nonetheless was caught unawares. She shrieked as the flash blinded her, and could do little more than swear furiously at the sound of Nate’s footsteps pounding down the aisle as he made his escape.
“Bartimaeus!” she finally snapped. “Stop him!”
I heaved a sigh, reverted to my winged serpent form, and took off after the kid. He’d already made it halfway across the library, but of course it was quite easy for a swift djinn such as myself to catch up. He yelped in horror as I slithered around him, pinning his arms to his sides, and used the strength of my wings11 11. He was lighter than I expected, actually. Real string-bean, this one.to lift him just high enough off the ground that his shoes could not longer find purchase on the wooden floor.
He struggled in vain, but I was still impressed. Most commoners I encountered would have fallen slack in surrender, or just fainted outright. When my master finally caught up, he was clever enough to kick out with both legs, trusting correctly that I would keep him from falling. But while I did indeed keep him upright, I also tugged him slightly backward so his kicks did not land.
Was my master grateful? Of course not. Her eyes flashed murderously and, ignoring the kid entirely, she began to berate me instead12.12. You’d think doing so her favourite pastime, given how often she engaged in it. “Bartimaeus!”
I slid my snake’s head over the kid’s shoulder and blinked innocently. “Yes?”
“You are ordered to prevent any harm to my person.”
“Yes.”
“So what was that?”
“A flash-bomb,” I supplied helpfully. “Hardly harmful13.” 13. This was even more true of my master than others. Thanks to her innate magical resistance, she would have emerged just as unharmed if the kid had chosen to throw an inferno stick instead. Of course, if the kid was as much of a book nerd as he appeared, the chances of him risking a fire in the library were less than negligible.
Her face darkened quite amusingly, but that was when the kid chose to distract her with another futile kick. “Restrain him properly, Bartimaeus,” she snapped.
I dutifully began to lengthen my serpentine body to wrap around his legs as well, but the kid was quicker. He went slack just long enough to pull his weight down enough that he could brace his feet against the ground, and then he promptly used this advantage to throw himself14 14. And me.backward against the nearest shelf.
I yelped. And if my grip slackened as a result of this collision, I can hardly be blamed15. 15. Greater demons than I have been felled by similar surprises.The kid took advantage of this to wriggle one hand into another of his pockets and retrieve a tiny glass orb, which he proceeded to smash against the ground.
A windstorm exploded around us. My master gave a cry of disgust as she was flung back, and even I could not help but be torn away from the kid in the maelstrom. Books were being torn from the shelves, their pages ripped loose by the malevolent little wind spirit.
“Stop--!” shrieked my master, just before a clump of papers smacked her across the face. While humiliating, I deemed this also unharmful and made no move to help her. I also did not move to stop anyone16. 16. The command was refreshingly vague and undirected.
By the time the spirit’s wind dissipated, my master and I were entirely alone in the trashed aisle. Books, loose pages, and feathers17 17. My serpent form had been left quite wingless.were strewn everywhere. My master’s clothes were beautifully dishevelled, her face white with fury as she attempted to straighten her cuffs.
“Why,” she asked me in a dangerously low tone, “are you still here?”
I feigned ignorance.
“You were supposed to keep the suspect from escaping!”
I blinked. “Which suspect was that?”
With a growl, my master flung a hand towards me with a curse on the tip of her tongue. I leapt into the air18, 18. Regrowing my wings as I did so.narrowly avoiding the Stricture, and lifted myself up over the height of the shelves. I was just in time to spot the kid disappearing out the front door.
My master could very well have ordered me to give chase. The fact that she did not was perplexing, considering how fervent she had been thus far. Instead, she picked her way out of the aisle’s detritus and returned to the spot in history where she had first faced down Nathaniel Wright.
Unlike the other aisle, only one volume lay on the floor here. My master picked it up delicately and frowned. “‘A History of Textiles?’” she read off doubtfully, before peeling off the dust cover to reveal a very different title entirely.
“To think he was holding proof in his hands the whole time,” she said darkly, grip tightening on the book. “There’s certainly no other reason a commoner would read about ancient Alexandria.”
“He is a librarian,” I pointed out. “And Alexandria is rather known for a certain library--”
“Shut up,” she snapped. “The altered spellbooks were all written by Alexandrian magicians. That’s a clear-cut connection if I ever saw one. Bartimaeus!”
I swooped low to hover over my master’s shoulder. “Yes, Kitty?”
She glared. My master always hated to be reminded that I knew her true name, which was why I was so careful to only use it when absolutely necessary19. 19. Once or twice any given conversation.“Find that boy.”
It probably wasn’t a good idea to keep testing my master at the moment. She looked about angry enough to pop, which would be the most interesting thing to happen to me in over four hundred years. “And by ‘that boy’ you mean--?”
“Nathaniel Wright,” she spat. “Find him, capture him, and bring him directly to me without delay.”
Well, you couldn’t get orders more direct than that. I shrunk down to the shape of a comely little sparrow and flung a sloppy salute with one black wing. “Sure thing,” I sighed, and took off to do my master’s bidding.