Sorry for the extra-long wait. Chapter Fifteen was hard to write, but on the plus side, it's more than a thousand words longer than this. This chapter is actually a double-chapter, seeing as it's 4,000 words (most chapters up to Chapter Twelve were 2,000 words), and Chapter Fifteen is about 5,400 words, which almost qualifies it as a triple-chapter, so really, the wait was worth it. I hope.
Also, Fifteen was a very critical chapter to the entire story - it probably is the most critical chapter to the story - so it took a ton of time. But I finished it, and I really like it, although I'm going to have one hell of a time editing it.
And there is one thing a few chapters ago that no one has really caught onto, although some of you have guessed in the right direction. You have no idea how much fun it is knowing that I might be the first to use a certain concept, one that you should see in a few chapters. But you can't say I didn't lay my clues.
Disclaimer: See any previous chapter. (I'm so lazy.)
Chapter Fourteen
Maybe From Your Perspective
"Just let me finish this point." -Bill Kristol, conservative pundit, after a pie was splattered on his face during a speech at Earlham College
The car came to a gradual stop outside Nathaniel's flat, and he thanked the chauffeur before briskly swinging the door open and stepping out into the late evening air. He smoothed his suit and straightened his tie as Bartimaeus crawled out of the car behind him and shut the door. The car sped off down the street and out of site and Nathaniel smiled. Now he was alone, save Bartimaeus, of course. Now he could prepare.
He strode quickly to the door and unlocked it with a flick of his hand, something he thought was rather impressive, and the door opened. He entered the flat and hurried over to his laptop while Bartimaeus took a seat on his counter.
"What you looking at?" asked the djinni.
"Another map of the area, just in case we need an escape route."
Bartimaeus grinned. "Come on, Nat. Do you honestly think we need an escape route? We're the best team there is. We've got brains, brawn, and magnetism."
Nathaniel glanced at him and shook his head. "Morris is an idiot."
"That's just a point of view."
"What?"
Bartimaeus threw him a look of surprise. "What do you mean?"
"How is it just a point of view?" Nathaniel snapped back irritably as he waited for the next page to load. He tapped the computer angrily. "Damn dial-up."
"Well," said Bartimaeus slowly and deliberately as if he was trying to think of how to shape his explanation. "Just think about it. A hero is just a murderer, or an assailant, or even an enemy, if you look at it from the other side's perspective. Good and evil are just a viewpoint."
"That makes no sense."
"Think about it," Bartimaeus continued. "If you were a Czech, you'd think the Empire is evil, but you're an Englishman, so you think it's all high and mighty. You think Gladstone is a hero, but he was just a murderer to the Czechs."
"So, if good and evil aren't objective, then what do you believe?"
His question caught Bartimaeus off-guard.
"I believe…" He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. "I believe that there is no constant definition of good and evil. I believe that the only good a being can do is by doing what they believe is right, and the only evil a person can do is by doing what they think is wrong. There is no medium. Of course, some djinn don't see the point of this. They think there is no good and evil at all, and anyone who thinks there is should be hanged."
The page still hadn't loaded, and Nathaniel was beginning to get very agitated. "I understand somewhat, but I disagree. That can't be right. There is a clear boundary between good and evil, and there are no interpretations of it. This is the only thing that could be true."
Bartimaeus shrugged. "Whatever you say, Nat," he replied as he stretched his arms above his head. "We djinni have been trying to tell magicians that all of this good and evil crap depends on who you are, and there is no clear boundary. We've been telling you this for centuries, but no, you don't listen. If you want to believe that, fine. You have to do what you think is right."
Nathaniel contemplated the djinni quietly. Bartimaeus had been known to spout philosophical knowledge from time to time, but it had been a while since he'd said anything like this. Maybe he never had.
"Morris is still an idiot."
"That's what you think," Bartimaeus pointed out. "But to him, he's a genius." He paused before grinning and chuckling to himself. "And a sexy one at that."
What Nathaniel had to say to this they would never know, for at that moment the page loaded.
"Aha!" he cried triumphantly. "It loaded!"
His head jutted out until it was only inches from the computer screen. His eyes scanned over the document with blazing speed and he frowned. "Hey, this isn't the page I clicked on. This is one of those ads giving out free computers."
"I have no earthly idea what in hell you are talking about."
Nathaniel shook his head. "No, I wouldn't expect you to."
"Is that supposed to be an insult?" Bartimaeus looked rather amused, actually. "Because it's not a very good one."
"Have you heard of something called 'silence'? I'm not sure, it may have been invented after your time."
Bartimaeus let out a deep laugh that was surprising for his small frame. "There, that's a bit better. I think you're getting the hang of this."
"Finally," breathed Nathaniel. His page had loaded. "Ah, damn pop-ups. Die, pop-ups, die!"
After a brief battle with the constant ads, he looked over the map. "No, our map was accurate. So basically I just wasted ten minutes loading this page."
"Figures."
Nathaniel sighed. "Could you go keep watch or something? I'm already somewhat stressed as it is, and you're really not helping at all."
"Fine," said Bartimaeus indifferently as he hopped off the counter. "Doesn't matter to me."
He disappeared up the stairs, leaving Nathaniel to his thoughts. Now that the djinni was gone, Nathaniel felt a bit lonely. The flat was large and spacious, and he was just one small person to fill it.
But he had always been a loner. He thought better in silence.
He leaned back in his chair when a glint of light to his side caught his eye. He spun in his chair to face it and smiled to himself. Of course.
The chessboard.
He hadn't thought of it in days. Now, everything had gotten so complicated that he didn't even know what to do with it. Nathaniel leaned over it and examined the board: it was exactly as he had left it. The queen was still open to attack, and he had the perfect move to put it in a bad position.
He moved his knight out. It now directly attacked the queen. Brilliant.
Now the Resistance faced a question: do they retreat or risk their queen by trying to weaken him? He did not know. The events of the night, or early morning, would determine that.
It might be easier now, making his move. He at least knew whom he was up against: Kitty Jones. Nathaniel had dealt with her twice before. Neither memory was one he liked to look back upon, but they had been learning experiences. He knew his enemy now. She might think she knew him, but no, he had changed. He was smarter now, and two years older. The arrogant mistakes he had made in his youth would not be repeated.
A smile crept onto his face. In just a few hours, he might be able to win this game of chess once and for all. That would show Devereaux his abilities.
"Nathaniel?"
He glanced up at the sound of his name. "Yes?"
"The area is clear," Bartimaeus said. "There's this old lady in the flat next to you with these rabid cats that keep frothing at the mouth, though. But besides that, you live in the dullest place in this world."
"Why, thank you, Bartimaeus. You do have a knack for making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
Bartimaeus smirked at him. "See, you are developing quite a sharp tongue on you." He tilted his head to the side and observed Nathaniel with a hint of humor in his eyes. "You should get some rest. You haven't slept more than five hours the past few days. It won't be good if you fall asleep during our raid of the ship."
"You know, that might actually have been the first smart thing you've said since I've known you," replied Nathaniel as he stood from his chair. "I'll be in my chambers if you need me."
He brushed past Bartimaeus and shut the door behind him. The djinni's eyes followed him into his room.
"Heh. You said 'chambers'."
-
It was dark and silent at the harbor. The warehouses nearby had long since closed down, and the usually busy streets were all but empty. No one was here to disturb them. They would be alone with the Resistance.
Nathaniel stared at the mass of a ship in front of him. It really was a marvel. Through science and magic, this monstrosity (and he meant this in a good way) could sail upon the Thames, a mere river. Granted, the river had been recently widened and extended by Devereaux's administration so it was more like a mixture of a lake and a river, but he could see why the Resistance might think a weapon would be stored on the ship. It certainly looked like a fortress, although it was a floating fortress at that.
He wondered… were they already here? Were they already searching for the weapon they desired, the weapon that did not exist? The ship might be very sturdy, but that might be disadvantageous to them. It was intended to keep intruders out. Now, Nathaniel was curious if he could manipulate it to keep intruders in.
Bartimaeus was taking too long. He had been sent to scout out the ship and the surrounding area, and almost thirty minutes had passed since he had left. And Morris hadn't even arrived yet, the irresponsible mess of a man.
He checked his watch one more time. It was five minutes past twelve. Morris was more than late, he was excruciatingly late.
The Paix Fausse rocked gently on the waves. Now, on the threshold of what might be the greatest or most embarrassing night of his life, Nathaniel was in awe. And not only that, he was terrified. What if the tides had been turned, and really, this was a trap against him? He thought he was ambushing the Resistance, but maybe Makepeace's sources were lying. Maybe they were double-crossing him.
And also, he had no idea how large this group was. From the files he had read, the last one had been around six people, but this one could be ten, twenty easily. He and Morris were only two magicians, and Bartimaeus was only one djinni. They could be going against those so strong that Bartimaeus's magic didn't even work on them!
Nathaniel shook his head and straightened his sleeves, another nervous habit he had picked up over the years. He was worrying too much. Everything would be all right, as it always was.
But what if it wouldn't?
And even if he did capture this Kitty Jones… would he turn her in? She had saved his life twice before, once when he didn't even deserve it. Could he possibly condemn her to a life in prison?
Yes, said a voice in his head. It's for your country.
He nodded. For my country.
"Sorry I'm late." Nathaniel turned, startled. It was only Morris. "I overslept."
"Of course," stated Nathaniel resignedly, having regained his composure. "But don't worry. Bartimaeus is still scouting the ship, so you haven't missed any of the action."
"Oh goody."
Nathaniel smiled. "I see you're not too excited anymore."
"No, I'm just tired. Big difference. Give me five minutes with a cup of tea with sugar and I just won't be able to stand still."
Nathaniel was about to respond when he felt something slither – hold on, what? Something was slithering against his foot! He opened his mouth to scream but was cut off by laughter.
"Quiet, you'll blow our cover." The snake's head rose into the air, and a grin, if snakes could grin, was on its face. "I scouted the area. We're clear, but they may have arrived in the last five seconds, so I guess we should hurry up then."
He was met by a furious glare. "Bloody hell, you git, you scared the living daylights out of me!"
"Yeah," said Bartimaeus happily. "I know."
Nathaniel shook his head and tried to keep in the many names he wanted to call the djinni. Luckily, he succeeded. "Well, if we're done trying to frighten each other to death, we should probably get on the ship and separate."
His two accomplices nodded.
"I guess this is it," Morris commented. "Good luck to you both."
"Same to you." Nathaniel found his mouth was very dry for some reason. Morris looked at them one last time before turning away and disappearing up the loading ramp and onto the ship.
"I'd better be off, then." Bartimaeus followed Morris although he went into the opposite hall of the ship. Nathaniel was alone once more.
"Here's for Britain," Nathaniel muttered to himself as he walked up the ramp also but instead went down the middle corridor of the ship. He kept the door slightly open to provide some source of light, as he would not be carrying a flashlight to guide himself for fear of blowing his cover, but it did no good. It was pitch black inside the Paix Fausse, or at least it was in his path, for there were no windows either. Narrow doorways lined the walls beside him, walls that were far too close together for comfort. The ship had looked monstrous from the outside, but he felt cramped inside of it.
It was silly in Nathaniel's mind that he was scared of this ship. He was no child. He was not afraid of the dark, or small hallways for that matter. Yet as much as he did not want to admit it, he was. The only thing that prevented him from darting in the opposite direction out of fear was the lagging image in his mind, the image of him presenting the Resistance to Devereaux. That would show his colleagues. Whitwell, Fry, Farrar; all of them doubted him. But when he was the one to capture the traitors, they would be praising him, and they would know that John Mandrake was one of the greatest magicians in the world.
Still, his doubts remained. What if the Resistance was larger than he had anticipated? Maybe they were ruthless killers, and not the bumbling fools he suspected them to be.
No, Nathaniel thought. I won't think about that. Everything will be fine.
He had come to an intersection in the corridors. There was a faint light coming from far windows, yet still he could barely see what was in front of him. In fact, he wondered if the Resistance or something equally intimidating was just waiting right in front of –
"Ow!"
His shin had hit something hard, something with a sharp edge. All of the nerves in his leg felt as if they were burning, and his eyes stung. Nathaniel's hand automatically went to the injured area, and if the situation hadn't required complete and utter quiet, he would have let out a long string of curses that would have put a sailor to shame. Thankfully he didn't, however, but it seemed that wasn't enough.
There was a sound to his left. It seemed to be coming from some distance, but it was most definitely there.
Nathaniel fell to the ground, stunned and silent. Another sound, very faint, grew closer. He could see a silhouette coming closer. He prayed that this silhouette would not find him.
It did, though.
"What happened?" The words were whispered, and the voice was one he'd heard before.
In fact, he'd heard it just seconds ago. "Morris?"
"I heard something," said the trainee. "What happened?"
"I hit something with my shin." It sounded very stupid and childish right now, but it was true. And the pain in his leg had not gone away.
Nathaniel could see Morris, albeit was just a shadow of him, bend over and run over an object with his hands. After a few seconds he spoke. "I think it's a crate." He paused. "No… it's something oddly shaped. I know I've felt it before, but I can't put my finger on it. Damn, I know what this is, but I just can't remember."
"That's just splendid," Nathaniel remarked sarcastically. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and now he could begin to see Morris's face.
"Hey, I don't see you doing anything."
"I'm agonizing, thank you. My shin still hurts."
"Well, maybe you can get a nurse to put a band-aid over your boo-boo," Morris stated. He stood and sighed. "I've got to get back to my route. Not that I really remember what it was, but I guess I should just pretend."
Nathaniel made a shooing gesture. "Fine, then. Off you go. Leave me to die here, you slimy bastard. I hope you tell your descendants about how you left the Internal Affairs Minister to die a lonely death."
Morris did not reply, and his footsteps echoed against the walls as he returned to his original position. Bugger. Nathaniel had actually displayed a sense of humor and still no response. Maybe this whole funny thing wasn't his strong point. He should just be boring, old John Mandrake, he who could not make someone laugh if his life depended on it. Of course, he would also be known as the greatest magician ever in a few years, so hopefully that would make up for his lack of conversational skills. He'd just intimidate people until they laughed. Not at him, of course. They'd laugh to save their worthless arses from flogging courtesy of a sizable marid.
He shook his head, trying to clear it of all the useless thoughts that had been buzzing in it recently, and got to his feet. He stuck his foot out very carefully and traced it around the edge of the object that had brutally attacked him. There was a bottom rectangle-like structure, and then little rods that stuck out above it. Odd indeed. Nathaniel was sure he knew what it was but like Morris could not quite remember. Stupid brain.
Still using his foot as a guideline for where the vicious object was, Nathaniel continued past the intersection. He had intentions of going further, but the whole fiasco had been a little draining, and he did not want to repeat it the next time the halls converged. His shin still burned, also, and he had a sinking feeling that it would burn for quite a while. So he leaned against the wall after he checked to make sure he was not leaning against a doorknob and waited for something to happen. Enough with this game of hide-and-seek. Nathaniel would wait here for the Resistance to fall into his hands like a mouse into a mousetrap. Technically, this meant he was playing cat-and-mouse, but this suited him much better than hide-and-seek, never mind that they were practically identical games.
A few seconds went by. His new concept of waiting for them was already getting a bit stale.
A few more seconds passed. When had his attention span shortened? It seemed he was already bored out of his mind. When would they come?
No. He would not get apathetic. He would focus. He would concentrate. He would not let the Resistance get the best of him, even if it meant not falling asleep when his body desired nothing more than a comfortable bed.
To pass the time and to keep himself from passing out on the spot, Nathaniel made a new activity. It was one that did nothing constructive yet had something to do with the task at hand, so he did not feel guilty. The activity was to guess which member of the Resistance he would come in contact with first.
When Nathaniel had visualized the situation, he'd always imagined running into Kitty Jones. It made sense. He was the leader of his odd little faction, and she was a veteran traitor/rebel. They had been around the block a few times, even if they were young. Also, Nathaniel desired greatly to make up for his last encounter with her. Having your life saved by a mere commoner can be disastrous to one's ego.
But it was very possible it wouldn't be her. In fact, it was very likely that he'd run into someone else. There was still that man who carried the gun, Glen (Nathaniel gulped involuntarily at the word "gun"), and the teenager who had been with him, the one who had worked at the museum. His name had been Joe. No, it wasn't Joe. It was John. No, Jacob. No, Jake. No, it had been Jack. His name had most definitely been Jack. Jack Johnson and Glen Something-Or-Other.
Nathaniel's clever thoughts were interrupted by a woman's shriek coming from Morris's direction. Well, that wasn't Morris, so at least Morris was the one doing the terrorizing.
A grunt. That could've been Morris.
A thud – no, two thuds. Either could have been Morris.
A gunshot. Oh, hell. This definitely wasn't good.
Another thud and a yell…
Then silence. The tension in the room could have been cut by a poorly made Swedish pocketknife. Nathaniel could feel his lungs squeeze together painfully; Morris had been hurt. He had led Morris here, and now the fool was hurt –
"Ha!" boomed a loud, triumphant voice. "Got three of them! How do you like the pipe I found, old man? Oh, you don't like it? That's too bad."
What? Morris won? He was the one doing the thudding? Now if only he would be quiet. The Resistance surely knew they were here by now, if the shriek, a gunshot, and the yell hadn't alerted them of their presence already. Of course, now Nathaniel knew the Resistance was here, so it all evened out. Makepeace had not let him down. His information had been good, or even brilliant. Nathaniel made a mental note to thank the playwright after this affair was over.
His thoughts were cut short once more, though. If he had been worrying about silence and stealth a few moments beforehand, all of those worries died and went to hell when not one but two screams, one belonging to a girl and one belonging to a young man, came from Bartimaeus's direction. Neither belonged to the djinni, however, and Nathaniel couldn't decide whether this was satisfying to him or was a disappointment. It looked like Bartimaeus would live to insult him yet.
But there was more. There was not one, not two, but three yells this time, and a few groans to boot. "Got some!" Bartimaeus announced happily. "Apparently they were traveling in a pack. Not too bright, are they?"
Nathaniel chose not to reply, but he had to admit, the Resistance was not as intelligent as he had thought they would be. They had been traveling in a group of five, for crying out loud! How dull could you be? It had taken Bartimaeus all of ten seconds to take out five Resistance members. Ten seconds.
But he knew there had to be at least one member remaining, one that he did not think would fall so easily. He had been listening very carefully, and not once had he heard the voice he had been wishing to hear, not once did he hear the voice cry out in defeat.
Not once did he hear the voice of Kitty Jones.
That meant she was still out there, in here. She was somewhere in the ship, and it was probable that she hadn't been traveling with her cohorts. That meant that she was most likely in his corridor, or below him, or –
There was a sudden creaking noise. It was quiet, yet very clear, but it was what followed it that made Nathaniel's eyes widen.
The object that had attacked his shin was lifting.
He stepped cautiously into the middle of the hallway. Now it all made sense. The object was a hatch. He had hit his foot on one of those little prongs that were used to twist it open. But someone was coming out of the hatch. This was not good.
It flipped open completely in a swift motion. A head popped out, and the outline of it swiveled quickly. It was scanning the area around it. It would see him. But it made no indication that it had, and then he remembered: he was standing in the darkness, where the light from the windows could not reach. Nathaniel grinned. The lack of light had actually helped him.
His grin faded when a figure emerged from the hatch, crouched low. It straightened slowly and began to walk… towards him. Oh, shit.
It was only few meters from him from him.
Only two meters.
Only one meter.
Less than a meter.
Now it stopped. Its face, or her face, was only centimeters from his. Nathaniel could feel her breath, he could feel her sudden fear that she had advanced too far. Only now had she noticed him. Only now was she able to see him. Her hair was actually brushing his face now. They were close enough to touch.
He smiled.
"Hello, Kitty Jones. Fancy meeting you here."
To Be Continued
Author's Notes: A huge chapter, kinda. It's different, and very... I don't know how to describe it. I actually started moving the plot along, and the much-built-up-to confrontation has arrived. No more waiting. Everything's about to move at a quicker pace, and the fic's all downhill from here, really. I consider the next chapter the turning point of the story, and from there on out everything is just leading to the climax. I left you with a cliffhanger... but that will be resolved next chapter. No beating around the bush, I promise. And I hope you liked your daily dose of Morris; he is only mentioned in passing in Chapter Fifteen. Speaking of which...
Next Chapter: In Rules of the Game, Kitty and Nathaniel confront each other not once, but twice, and the events leading to the ultimate demise of the Resistance as we know it are revealed. But now, old debts are revisited and Nathaniel must make one final choice to who he will become and who he wants to be.