A/n: Oh yeah, I totally didn't not update this for about 3 months.
It had taken far longer than necessary to return to Nathaniel's hovel, but this was probably due to the fact that suddenly everything fascinated the boy; anything that shone or moved or appeared to be looking at him became some sort of alien creation that simply had to be investigated for several minutes at a time. Perhaps it was the chemicals, or perhaps it was simply the state of mind that Nathaniel was in at the moment. Honestly, though, the two could have been interchanged. Eventually we had come full circle to the curb outside the complex, and both boy and dog sat on the pavement.
"Bartimaeus," the boy began, "if I were to die right now, would anyone care?"
"The landlord, because there'd be a corpse in front of his building." (1)
He nodded in response, as if he were actually comprehending and contemplating my answer. It was likely that the bit of sarcasm had gone completely over his head, or that he thought he was being clever and that I didn't realize he was paying no attention at all. The dog employed its paw to crush a spider which had scuttled by unwittingly to its death.
"What about you, Bartimaeus?"
"What if I died?" (2)
"No, I meant would you care if I died."
It was tempting to tell him no; it was my first reaction, in fact. Yet, my mind was spinning, for despite all I knew, and though decisions were always quick and precise, this question could not be answered directly. A sigh escaped the dog's nostrils. So many years had passed since my first encounter with Nathaniel. He was no more than a boy then, a boy with a taste for revenge, as most young boys tend to develop, for in their young minds, it is the only way to achieve greatness. Surely, he had grown since then, but he still craved power, as magicians do. It becomes the demise of them all. Curious, it is, for any man craves power, yet his powers are finite. Magicians...they know their power, all too well, and thus the lust for power always destroys them. I have seen far too many bring their own demise upon them to care anymore. But here, looking upon the bedraggled excuse for a boy, I saw no magician. I saw only a scared child, lost in the labyrinth of his own mind.
"Nathaniel..." I inhaled slowly. "I suppose this more complex than it should be. Death is so obsolete to me, the idea doesn't at all move me. And you'd think after so many years of serving the damn creatures, I especially wouldn't care if a magician died. Don't become attached, that's what they tell you, it makes everything so much harder..."(3) My voice tapered off as this last bit of advice was spoken. I wasn't attached. Impossible. After all I had gone through with the boy, I really should have hated him. Yet I couldn't bring myself to harbor hatred against this pitiful creature; rather, I decided it would have been far better to harbor the duty to drag him from this great black pit. What a foolish thing to decide. But if not I, then who?
Most likely having forgotten what lie within the dog's form, Nathaniel began to absentmindedly stroke the animal's fur, much to my discomfort. "It's good to know the stars are always there," he commented softly. (4)
"Yes...yes it is, Nathaniel..."
(1) This may not have been the best time for sarcasm, but I just can't help myself.
(2) At this rate I would probably die just listening to the boy talk.
(3) This advice is usually given to young children who delight in 'adopting' wild creatures and naming them, which of course only brings more tears when the ill-kept creature keels over.
(4) I contemplated reminding him that the stars were most likely dead at this point, due to the laws of light. But that would just be evil.