[Autor's Nose: This story is set between Golem's Eye and Ptolmey's Gate. It assumes both as canon. Obviously, I do not own these characters, nor is my name Jonathan Stroud. The magician is mine, however. PLEASE read and review – I don't care if it's good or bad, just tell me!]

It wasn't Mandrake, I knew that much. This was a new one. Odd; most of the magicians in London knew I was his "servant"(1)... maybe they had taken his three-month dismissal of me as a sign that I was no longer being used. In any case, I was suprised - but more then willing to give a new, hopefully less dramatic, master a try...

The windows of the bright, airy room grew dark and stormy. Thunder clapped, lightning struck, and a charge filled the room, causing the electric lightbulbs powering lights set in the high ceiling to go out one by one. A pillar of smoke filled the circle, and columns of fire and roaring wind sprung up on either side of it. As the smoke deteriorated and the fire died down, a man could be seen.

He was a young boy, Egyptian and very tan, with a bright smile and vivid dark eyes.(2) I took the form as a tribute, and I rarely regretted it. He may not have been fearsome, or had horns, but at least Ptolemy had (relative) style.

I glanced around the room. It was in a hexagon shape, and the walls alternated between bookshelfs, a desk (at the far end, next to the door) and windows, which were quite tall. From what I could see, the room was itself the entire building, and was perched atop a beachy hill. Quite serene, and probably very expensive.(3) Most of the shelves contained the usual magicians' paraphernalia, but some of the shelves on the opposite side of the room, near the second pentacle, were filled with books apparently about mathematical formulae and other odd, scientific titles.

The aforementioned desk had a large board in front of it, on which sequences of numbers and several complex equations had been written. I tend to take things in pretty quickly, but most of the math was beyond my immediate comprehension.(4)

Of course, of more immediate importance were the only contents of the opposite pentacle. The boy swiveled his head and looked over, apprising the magician within.

It was a woman(5), fairly short and quite thin, with long brown hair held in a neat ponytail. Her grey eyes were unexpressive, sharp but unchanging. However, her face had an expression of mild assuredness bordering on smug – not unusual either. She wore plain, comfortable clothes – a simple, faded bluegrey top, and tan slacks. Her arms and legs were lanky and thin, but she moved with a fluid motion which led me to believe she was in much better physical condition then the average magician.

She considered me, for a moment, and then spoke. "You are Bartimaeus?" her words were terse, to the point.(6)

The woman was obviously experienced; it was unlikely I'd be able to unsettle her. Still, I decided to go for the gusto. In a roaring, thundering voice, quite reminiscent of the raging storm I had created outside, I said, "I am Bartimaeus, Sakhir Al-Jinni, N'Gorso the Mighty and Serpent of the Silver Plumes. I am Bartimaeus, who has conferred with Solomon, who build the walls of Prague, who-"

"Yes, yes. I know." She replied softly. Her expression did not change.

"Then you know I am a force not to be trifled with! Why have you summoned me, human?" I slowly returned to a more natural voice as I spoke. The effect was rather less echoey and voluminous then I had thought.(7)

"I have two simple charges for you, Bartimaeus. There is a party this night, at the house I own-"

"I see," I broke in, "Well, you're not much to look at, but I'm sure that with my good looks we'd make a charming couple."

"No," For a moment, the side of magician's mouth twitched. It returned to normal quickly, and she resumed her calm demeanor.(8) "You will do two things. Firstly, you will proceed to the airport in Durban, at which the British Prime Minister, Rupert Deveraux, is arriving, and you will locate and follow him until he arrives here. Secondly, during the course of the evening, you will observe silently and protect you."

"You have made two charges," I began, my voice again taking on a deeper timbre, "And in return, I have two questions.(9)"

"You may ask."

"Durban," I said, "We are in South Africa?"

"Yes, about 20 miles from the city itself."

"Very well, then. Who are you, and what is it that you fear happening to you at this… event?"

"That's three questions. I will answer only the second; the third you will find in time, I'm sure."(10)

"Fine. Go on," I encouraged her; the boy's neck bent forward as if listening to a secret, but his face sneered at her.

"I am afraid," the magician continued, "for my life."

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1 Meaning slave. D'oh.

2 In my opinion, much better then your average magician today. The fire and brimstone effect kind of wears off when you get a stubby chap wearing a cheap suit.

3 I'm guessing it started to sink into the sand every few years. Must've cost a fortune to maintain. Still, its décor was more tasteful then most.

4 Not, mind you, that I wouldn't have gotten it with a little study.

5 Generally unsurprising, equality was all the rage these days. For magicians, of course, not commoners.

6 They all had to know the name. The last one asked me that too. Funny, it's not like you'd call OUT the wrong name during the summoning, would you?

7 If she wasn't going to be scared or at least pretend to be interested, I didn't see a need to bother any further.

8 I love it when they're bubbling under the surface like this. Makes them easier to play with. Provoking this one might be hard, but I'd do it. It's more of an art, then anything, really.

9 Which she was under no obligation to answer. A lot of masters – erm, mistresses - give you vague orders, then punish you when you fail to complete them.

10 Clever girl – she didn't give me her name. Names, even fakes the magicians give themselves, are very powerful.