Ptolemy's Gate

might mean." She gave a little pout. "It is blatant posturing! Mr. Button has just thrown a bun at them."
    Kitty shrugged. "Security's important, but so's the trust of the people. Spies, vigilance spheres—all that's going to have to change. As far as the ports go, you'll just have to argue it out with them, I suppose."
    "Are you sure we can't persuade you to take part?" Ms. Piper said. "You would be a perfect intermediary between us and the more . . . extreme factions."
    "Sorry," Kitty said. "I'm tired. I'd just get stroppy. You'd be packing me off to the Tower by nightfall."
    "I hardly think so!" Ms. Piper seemed suddenly thoughtful. "Mind you, some of those delegates. . . The idea is tempting . . ." She shook her head. "What am I saying? So then, Ms. Jones, I see you have an atlas out. Does this indicate your plans?"
    "I don't know," Kitty said slowly. "I think, maybe, when things calm down a little on the Continent, I'll go abroad for a while. I've got a friend to visit in Bruges, and after that I'd like to travel a bit, see the world. I hope it will help me regain my health." She pursed her lips; looked toward the window. "Perhaps I'll go to Egypt. I've heard a lot about it. I don't know. It all depends."
    "You wouldn't care to continue your magical studies here? Mr. Button speaks highly of your aptitude, and we have a conspicuous lack of talent in the government. We could recommend some tutors."
    Kitty shut the atlas cover; spirals of dust rose up and drifted in the light. "You are very kind, but that door's closed to me now. My studies were always directed toward summoning one particular . . ." She paused. "I had one particular objective in mind. And two nights ago Nathaniel accomplished it for me. In all honesty, I wouldn't know how to follow on from that."
    There was silence in the room. All at once Ms. Piper looked at her watch and gave a little cry. "Recess is almost over! I must go. Heaven knows whether we can make any headway this afternoon." She sighed heavily as she stood. "Ms. Jones, after a single morning I am already close to throttling the commoners' entire delegation. A single morning! And we are barely started. The outlook could hardly be worse. I really don't believe we shall be able to cooperate at all."
    Kitty smiled and sat back in her chair. "Keep trying," she said. "It's possible. Not easy, but it's possible. You'll be surprised what you manage to achieve."

38

    Dying was the simple part. Our main problem was catching Nouda's attention.
    We stood, the two of us, in our single body, directly beneath the middlemost dome. This was the place to lure him to, the epicenter, the place of maximum iron. But Nouda was too big, too noisy, too confused and desolate to be easily lured. Back and forth he lurched on his mess of limbs, trampling stalls and kiddies' rides and stuffing trees at random into his gaping mouth. He undertook this serious work with admirable conviction, and none of his eyes were turned our way.
    Flying was out for us now. Even bounding would be a stretch. It took most of my remaining energies to keep the boy upright. Left to his own devices, he'd have crumpled to the floor.
    So we stopped where we were, and shouted instead. Or at least I did, with the kind of cry that triggers Tibetan avalanches.[1] "Nouda! It is I, Bartimaeus, Sakhr al-Jinni, N'gorso the Mighty and the Serpent of Silver Plumes! I have fought a thousand battles and won them all! I have destroyed far greater entities than you! Ramuthra fled before my majesty. Tchue cowered in a crack in the earth. Hoepo the Thunder Snake ingested his own tail and so swallowed himself rather than taste my fury! So then, I challenge you now. Come face me!"

[1] When shouted from Nepal. That's how loud it was.

No answer. Nouda was busily munching on some of the exhibits in the Grotto of Taxidermy. The boy ventured a tentative thought. Does that count as a goad? It was essentially straightforward boasting, wasn't it?
    Listen, a goad's anything that provokes or incites an enemy, and — Oh, look, it didn't work, did it? We're running out of time. Another few steps and he'll break outside.
    Let me have ago. The boy cleared his throat."Cursed demon! You have met your end! The Shivering Fire awaits you! I shall spread your vile essence across this hall like. . . um, like margarine, a very thick layer of it. . ." He hesitated.
    Ye-es. . . I'm not sure he'll pick up on that analogy. Never mind, keep going.
    "Cursed demon— attend to