Please note: Bartimaeus is the wonderful creation of Jonathan Stroud
BARTIMAEUS THE REFLECTION
I tell you, the ignomity of the situation cannot, can never be rectified, and by my noble power, I shall see to it that all of humanity is made to face my terrible retribution! It is intolerable! Completely inexcusable! I mean, do I resemlbe some sort of foul imp or distgusting, snivelling foliot? Heavens, no! I am a noble spirit. A graceful and charming djinn of the fourth class. An ancient entity of power who has seen civilizations rise and fall, who has made great leaders and heros and broken them. I am Bartimaeus of Uruk!
So, what has got my essence in a tither, you ask? I am almost ashamed to say. It all started with your basic summonning which, let me tell you, is always just barrels of fun. (How can I put it so you dim witted humans can understand? Picture yourselves standing in front of a taser, a pair of metal scissors, a branding iron- Oh, forget it! I've probably lost you already.) I put up a cursory resistance and immediately felt the raw power behind the summoning. This was no namby-pamby magician by any means. No siree, I was dealing with a true Master. (F.W.Y. The term 'namby-pamby' was a phrase you humans appropriated from us. It was originally used by the Afrit, Rantu the Smart-Mouth, in the early thirteenth century, and it means 'Your Strudle is Ready, Master'. It's evolved some over time.)
As I was drawn downwards I gave my some thought as to my opening appearance. First impressions are very important and I really wanted to make a proper impression. (That actually reminds me of another story involving a rather fat magician. He ended up making a pretty good master.) I flipped through a whole host of guises looking for just the right one. It had to have the right amount of class and the right amount of barbarity. Specifically, it had to be something that scared the magician into hopeless insanity. (This is unlikely with the more experienced ones but we always hope.) I finally decided on a guise just as my essence solidified in your putrid world and I stood ready to face and dazzle my new 'master'.
And then I fell flat.
No, not my expectations. I was flat. I was flat and compressed inside a thick, polished pane of glass. It was so embarrassing! I had been summoned directly into a large hanging mirror like some petty imp! (Granted, it was a very ornate and decorated mirror, but still...I was in a mirror!) I furiously looked around for my master (a very difficult task when you're flat. Did I mention I was flat?), determined to give them a piece of my mind, and then I spotted her and that is when I really got mad.
She was ignoring me! ME! Apparently, she had more important bussines to attend to with some ditsy teen-aged girl than the noble spirit she had only just summoned. I made a mental note that when she would look in the mirror I would show her her reflection all right, with a few choice deformations. (Maybe throw in some piercings just to freak her out.)
Sitting there in my shiny prison I grew bored and started fogging up the glass in order to scrawl rude words on it, (backwards, of course, so they could be read from the outside.) Eventually, I took the opportunity to notice my surroundings. I was in some sort of elaberate castle, which made sense because my master seemed to be some sort of queen. Well, anyways the old crow was dressed fancy enough; gaudy golden tiara, purple velvet robes, fourty rings on ten fingers, etc.
The young girl she was talking to was distinctive in her own way. She was dressed in rags and her hands were calloused from scrubbing floors but despite all that, her form was aesthetically pleasing. She had hair as dark as ebony; lips red as the rose and her most intriguing characteristic was her pale complexion with skin a snowy white.
They spoke for a while, or rather, the old queen gave some orders and the young girl eventually left to carry them out. It was then that my master deigned to notice my presence.
She slowly strode over to my prison and gazed at me imperiously. "Mirror," she said, addressing me.
"That's 'Barimaeus' to you." (I recieved a painful shock and decided my name would be 'Mirror' for now.)
She started again. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"
(Was she kidding me with those rymes? Well, I wasn't going to play along. I'm not much for poetry myself.) "How should I know, lady? I've only just got here, haven't I?" I got some more painful shocks. I guess that wasn't the answer she wanted. (In truth, this was an impossible task. All you fleshies look more or less alike. You lack the variety and splendor of the greater beings. (You smell awful too, but that's beside the point.))
So I gave her a look over. She was a dumpy old dame with a crooked nose, vast over-bite, greasy hair and she had a mole on her chin that was sprouting so much hair it desperately needed a combing. "Well, lady," I said, "If I know one thing it's that it is definitely not you."
The funny thing is, she seemed geniunely shocked by this information. Her eyes widened in astonishment and her lips sputtered furiously. "Who is it?" she demanded. "Who is it that has exceeded mine own great beauty?"
(I can see now that any guise I would have assumed would not have driven her insane. She was already miles over the deep end.) "Well just about anybody would 'exceedeth thine great beauty', I would assume."
More painful shocks. "SPEAK, MIRROR! WHO IS IT?"
O.K., she wanted specifics. I racked my brains. "Alright, alright! How about that young lady who just left?"
The old crone froze. "What?" she asked, icily.
"Yea, the snowy white girl that just left. She wasn't bad to look at."
The Queen's eyes narrowed and a cruel spitefulness played across her face. She made a quick gesture and muttered a few words and I felt myself be dismissed.
As I soured loose from my earthly bonds I coud not help but reflect upon my little encounter. I suppose, as a djinn, you can't always be in a position to play a legendary role in a legendary accurance.
What a colossal waste of my time.