[Autor's Nose: This chapter is incomplete and will be finished later. As always, I do not own anything related to Bartimaeus except my own original character, who is yet to be named.]

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!]

"Afraid for my life." Well, that was dramatic, wasn't it? I searched through the list of magicians I knew, trying to recall this woman, but nothing came up. Still, if she was worried about members of the Parliament trying to off her, she must be of some influence.(1)

"From whom and what are you afraid of this?" I asked, pressing for more information. I wanted to get this over with quickly; lately, my visits to the Other Place had not been quite long enough for my liking. The more I knew, the better.

"I don't know." The woman said, sounding weary, "Just go. You have your commands."

I nodded, glad to be done, and the pillar of steam shot up from where my feet were planted. I changed into smoke and wisped out one of the windows, then changed into a small African bird and took flight.

As I left the building, I rose high into the air, and could see that the room we'd been in was part of a much larger complex; there was a sprawling main building, some sort of greenhouse, and off in the corner, a small room with a chimney that was belching steam. I guessed the entire area was self-sufficient; not using power or water from the nearby city.(2)

I perched on the roof of one of the smaller buildings near the main house, and surveyed the site. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts.

This woman was obviously rich, at the very least. And, if she'd summoned me, she was probably at a fair level of power, too.(3) But South Africa was at the farthest reaches of the Empire; it was practically autonomous, from what I'd gathered during my service to Mandrake. British power in the area was weakening; it was too expensive to send troops so far south. Magicians typically crowded together; tried to stay with each other.(4)

There were only two reasons (besides the aforementioned paranoia) that my new master would want to live in such an out of the way place: Either she was working on something secretive and didn't want to be bothered, or she'd been ostracized. Considering the fact that she was throwing a party for the Prime Minister, the former seemed more likely.

In the distance, I could see faint outlines of tall buildings; they must have been part of Durban. The bird changed from a small songbird into a falcon and leapt into the air, heading towards the city.

(1)Then again, many of those who are worried about being slain by other magicians severely overestimate their own standing. A pervious master of mine, a going-nowhere conjurer several centuries ago, was convinced the king of Persia wanted him executed. Absolutely mad, that one.

(2)This only served to bolster my suspicion that my new master was quite paranoid.

(3)That's not an errant brag; that's the truth, it is.

(4)So they were all up-to-date on each other's nefarious plans, of course.

Nathaniel

As the plane neared Durban's small airstrip, John Mandrake stared out of the window,

his eyes unfocused. Things weren't going well. Europe was at war, the Empire was facing rebels even at home, and yet the PM, Rupert Deveraux, had decided to pick up the entire ministry and send them all the way to South Africa just for a conference. The fact that the entire government had almost been killed at the last such conference wasn't making things any easier, either.

Deveraux was becoming less serious and more childlike every day. Propaganda wasn't rousing the commoners the way it used to, and even though it was never publically admitted, the war in America was as good as lost. This wasn't the time to be distracted, but there was nothing he could have done. He, as with all the other ministers, were absolutely tied to Deveraux's whims.

As he was about to take a drink from a glass at his side, the plane touched down, and Mandrake shuttered. His thoughts dissolved, Mandrake stood abrutly, nodded to the flight crew, and left (it was a chartered plane; who wanted to fly with commoners?). He stepped out into the sunny, warm air, and walked towards the terminal, where a small group of Ministers stood talking. One, a short but attractive brown-haired woman, noticed him:

"John. So glad you've safely arrived."

"The same to you, Ms. Farrar. I do hope you aren't waiting for me..?"

This concept seemed slightly repulsive to Jane Farrar, but she simply smiled easily and said, "Not at all. Rupert has asked that we all take separate cars... security reasons, apparantly." In a lower voice, she added, "I can't say I'm upset."

Mandrake nodded; he'd already make arrangments for his own vehicle. Giving Farrar a polite goodbye, he left the group. Behind him, in the guise of a small bird, a demon followed.