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"More extraordinary than ever! With my scrying glass, I have been watching you both chattering away like fishwives for the last ten minutes! What explanation can there be? Perhaps my eyesight is fading at last in my advanced old age." The magician drew his monocle out of a waistcoat pocket, screwed it into position over his left eye[53] and took a couple of steps forward, idly swinging his cane. Simpkin flinched but made no answer.
"Well then." The cane suddenly swung in my direction. "Your message, imp, where is it?"
I touched my forelock respectfully. "I entrusted it to my memory, sir. My master considered it too important to be inscribed on paper."
"Is that so?" The eye behind the monocle looked me up and down. "And your master is…"
"Simon Lovelace, sir!" I gave a smart salute and stood to attention. "And if you'll give me leave, sir, I shall relay his message now, then depart. I do not wish to take up any more of your time."
"Quite so." Sholto Pi
"Simply this, sir. 'Dear Sholto, Have you been invited along to Parliament tonight? I've not—the Prime Minister seems to have forgotten me and I feel rather snubbed. Please respond with advice A.S.A.P. All the best for now, Simon. Word for word, that is, sir, word for word." This sounded plausible enough to me, but I didn't want to push my luck. I saluted again and set off for the door.
"Snubbed, eh? Poor Simon. Mmm." The magician considered a moment. "Before you go, what is your name, imp?"
"Erm—Bodmin, sir."
"Bodmin. Mmm." Sholto Pi
Reluctantly I drew to a halt. "Oh—yes, sir."
"What a polite imp you are, to be sure. Well, first—why would Simon not write down such a harmless note? It is hardly seditious and might well become mangled in the memory of a lesser demon such as yourself."
"I have a very fine memory, sir. Renowned for it, I am."
"Even so, it is out of character… No matter. My other question…" And here Sholto moved a step or two closer and sort of loomed. He loomed very effectively. In my current shape I didn't half feel small. "My other question is this: why did Simon not ask my advice in person fifteen minutes ago, when I met him for a prearranged lunch?"
Ah. Time to leave.
I made a leap for the exit, but quick as I was, Sholto Pi
Then I spun and fired off a Detonation—it collided directly with the magician's back, propelling him forward straight into the frozen display stand. He had a protective field around him—I could see it as pretty yellow sparkles when I flipped through the planes—but though there wasn't the hole in him I wanted, he was badly winded. He subsided gasping into a mess of icy boxer shorts. I set off for the nearest window, intending to bust my way out into the street.
I had forgotten Simpkin. Stepping smartly from behind a rack of cloaks, he swung a giant staff (with a tag marked Extra—large) directly at my head. I ducked; the staff smashed into the glass front of the counter. Simpkin drew back to repeat the blow; I leaped at him, wrested the staff from his claws and gave him a clout that reversed the topography of his features. With a grunt he fell back into a pile of silly hats, and I proceeded on my way.
Between two ma
Too late. As the window broke, a trap was triggered.
The ma
They were made of dark polished wood—the kind of shop dummy that has no human features, just a slender smooth oval where the face should be. The barest suggestion of a nose perhaps, but no mouth, no eyes. They were modeling the latest fashionable wizard gear: his—'n'—hers black suits with slim white pinstripes and razor—sharp lapels; lemon—white shirts with high, well—starched collars; daringly colorful ties. They wore no shoes: from each trouser—leg projected only a simple nub of wood.
As I leaped between them, their arms shot out to bar the way. From the depths of each sleeve a silver blade extended and clicked into place in their finger—less hands. I was going too fast to stop, but I was still holding the extra—large staff. The blades swung toward me in two synchronized arcs. I raised the staff in front of my face just in time: the blades sank deep into it, almost cutting right through and jerking me to a sudden painful halt.
For a moment I felt the cold aura of the silver against my skin,[54] then I let go of the staff and flung myself back. The ma
I back—flipped over the counter.
The silver blades bit into the parquet flooring where I had just stood.
I needed to change, and fast—the falcon form would probably do—but I also needed to defend myself. Before I could make up my mind quite how, they were upon me again, whistling through the air, wind ruffling their oversize collars. I dived to one side, crashing into a pile of empty gift boxes. One ma
I could feel my energy getting low. Too many changes, too many spells in too short a time. But I wasn't helpless yet. I cast an Inferno on the nearer ma
The ma
I was about to do the same to its companion, which had hopped over the bonfire and was fast approaching, when a slight sound behind alerted me to the partial recovery of Sholto Pi
53
With the aid of their lenses, magicians can see clearly onto the second and third planes and blearily onto the fourth. Sholto was no doubt checking me out on these. Fortunately my imp—form extended to the fourth, so I was safe.
54
Silver hurts us badly; it burns our essence with its searing cold. Which is why Sholto had installed it in his security system. What it did to the dji
55
The dji