Disclaimer: All canon characters, settings, etc belong to Jonathan Stroud

Anticlimax
Chapter 2: The Mournful Orbs

Nathaniel's expression was calm, but inwardly he was having difficulty not betraying his excitement. Jessica Whitwell, his previous master, would no doubt have gotten high praise for bringing in a Resistance member from the outside, but that was nothing when compared to uncovering a traitor in their very midst.

"Mr. Mandrake," Penelope began, her hoarse voice shaking. Nathaniel felt a sort of scornful pity for the girl: she was obviously terrified. Her face was white and her pulse was fluttering visibly at her throat. "This is…there's been a…"

"Please." He held up a hand, his tone weary. "I've been here almost since the beginning of your conversation. I don't see how there could have been a mistake. If your friend," here he nodded in the direction of the sparrow on Penelope's shoulder, whose form he could just make out on the third plane (he could therefore conclude that it was a low-level djinni unable to conceal itself fully on any plane higher than the second), "Would be so kind as to reveal himself on all planes…"

The sparrow jumped from Penelope's shoulder, taking the form of a sleek, chocolate-brown cat as it landed on the floor, now visible on all the planes so that Nathaniel could have seen him without his lenses. Its orange eyes glinted fiercely.

"Now," Nathaniel said briskly, ignoring the djinni's hostile stare, "Consider yourself under arrest, Miss Cross. I would advise you against any rash actions, such as attempting to run away."

Penelope, who had shifted her weight forward slightly as if preparing to bolt while Nathaniel was speaking, stood up straighter and frowned. Color was returning to her face, something close to annoyance replacing the shock and fear she had shown earlier. A curious transformation, but it wouldn't do her any good.

Nathaniel folded his arms and allowed the smirk he had been repressing to spread across his face when Penelope nodded at the cat at her feet, which sprang towards the window. At the same time the girl rushed forward, aiming for the door. Nathaniel's hands shot out and closed around Penelope's upper arm just as the Shield he had quietly ordered one of his demons to erect around the room a few minutes earlier prevented her comrade from escaping. With a mighty jerk she pulled free and wrenched the door open, only to be leapt at by a security guard.

The djinni, who had been stunned for a moment by the collision with the subtle Shield, turned and, hissing, fired a Detonation at the guard. It exploded near his feet, sending him and Penelope flying in opposite directions. The cat became a gargoyle in the blink of an eye and leaped towards the slightly dazed girl, only to be caught in the chest by another Detonation, this time cast by Limrick, the djinni Nathaniel had commanded to erect the Shield. The force of the attack blew the gargoyle backwards, and in the few seconds it took for him to recover Limrick had put a Bind on Penelope, who struggled uselessly against its hold. Limrick snapped his fingers lazily and the girl rose a few inches in the air, still squirming against the Bind.

"Cerebaton," she yelled desperately, trying in vain to free her arms, "Get up!"

The djinni clamored to its feet and deflected another Detonation. Limrick sighed in some exasperation and fired three in quick succession: he was quick and powerful, to be sure, but as far as attacks went he had little imagination. It didn't matter: Cerebaton deflected the first two, but, still reeling from the force of the earlier blow, was too slow to block the third and was sent crashing into the opposite wall. The plaster crumbled and bent like cardboard beneath the power of the collision, and the djinni stumbled forward a few steps before falling to the ground, strength spent.

Penelope cried out in shock and despair, and Nathaniel shook his head in mock sorrow.

"I'm afraid you'll need a more powerful servant than that if you're going to try rising up against people like me," he said lightly. "That was one of the less exciting battles between entities I've seen."

Penelope opened her mouth, eyes glinting in fury, but with another wave of Limrick's hand she found herself gagged as well as trapped in the Bind.

"Whatever insult you were planning to hurl at me would only worsen the consequences you're about to suffer," he told her, voice stern. She glared at him with as much dignity as she could muster in her position, which wasn't much.

"Take them both to the Tower and secure them each in separate Mournful Orbs," Nathaniel commanded Limrick. "And then you're free to go."

The djinni bobbed his head and snapped his fingers. The unconscious Cerebaton and the furious Penelope floated still higher in the air, and preceded Nathaniel's servant out the door. Nathaniel glanced at the damage done to the wall of the break room and wrinkled his nose. Really. Who had Penelope thought she was dealing with?

-

When Cerebaton opened his eyes, he didn't know how much time had passed. He stared at the cold marble a few inches in front of his eyes – he was still in the form of the gargoyle – and let the memory of recent events swim up to the surface of his mind.

When they came, he cringed. He had been overpowered quickly and humiliatingly. He had failed Penelope, who had been rendered helpless by his opponents' Bind, and because of that he had also failed his real master.

The faint hum that filled the air caught his attention. It was the sort of thing you either got used to or went mad because of. He lifted his gaze slightly away from the surface he was lying on and saw a web of crisscrossing white lines, the vibrations of which were giving off the eerie hum. He let his gaze travel upwards, and realized that the field curved overhead, forming a dome around him and sealing him in completely. There were no weaknesses, no openings. He was trapped.

"Cerebaton?"

The hoarse whisper had him standing and looking around. On another marble platform, raised high in the air, he could just make out Penelope's form behind another shimmering barrier.

"Penelope!" he hissed, stepping forward. The energy radiating off the strange dome made him wince even at this distance. He moved back again. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I thought you would never wake up: it must have been hours since they brought us here."

"And where is 'here', exactly?"

Her whisper dropped even further, terror evident in her tone as she replied, "The Tower of London. We're trapped in Mournful Orbs."

Ah. That was a problem.

Cerebaton had heard about these Orbs, even though he had never been unlucky enough to be trapped in one until now. If he so much as brushed the humming force field around him with the tip of his stone wing, his essence would be destroyed. The thought had him backing up into the very center of the platform, looking warily overhead.

"I don't know what to do," Penelope continued. "That Mandrake…he had us outsmarted from the start. What do you suppose…?"

Her voice trailed off, and Cerebaton said, "We'll be questioned, no doubt. They'll want to know everything you do about the Resistance, and about my master's disappearance."

"I'm not telling them anything," Penelope said immediately.

"You'll find that's easier said than done," Cerebaton said darkly. "They'll keep shrinking the Orb until you tell them what they want to know. I know that this thing can destroy my essence in a second; it can probably do severe damage to you, too. It will burn you, at the very least."

Penelope was silent for a moment.

"I won't tell them anything," she repeated at length, her voice soft but determined. "She's still alive – the Resistance can afford to lose me if they've got her."

Cerebaton was about to respond when the sound of a siren rent the air and a popping sound at one corner of the room distracted both of them.

"They're coming," he said grimly, and folded his wings in front of him, steeling himself. A second later a portal appeared, and John Mandrake stepped neatly through. The opening closed behind him as soon as he was all the way into the room, sealing them all in. Though her outline was distorted because of the crackling energy surrounding her, Cerebaton saw Penelope straighten her shoulders defiantly.

The magician stepped onto one of the larger slabs of rock on the floor and snapped his fingers. Smoothly the section of stone rose into the air, until he was on level with the marble platform Penelope was standing on.

"How are you enjoying the Tower, Miss Cross?"

Stony silence was her only response. Mandrake chuckled.

"There's no need to glare at me that way – you brought it upon yourself, I'm afraid. If it's any comfort, know that your stay here could be cut dramatically short…providing you cooperate, of course. I have a few questions for you.

"Ah," he said after a short pause, mouth twitching upwards at the corners. "I expect you've already resolved to stay silent. I regret to inform you that countless others before you did the same, only to find themselves broken down in the end. You are no stronger than they; you will tell me what I want to know eventually."

"Oh, stop trying to sound intimidating," Cerebaton said impatiently, already bored with Mandrake's chatter. "You'll only embarrass yourself."

Mandrake turned his head so that he was staring into Cerebaton's Orb.

"It would, however, be in your best interest to remain silent," he said coldly, and made a mystic sign with his right hand; the Orb around Cerebaton shrank to half its original size. He could feel the barrier vibrating. With a slight smirk, Mandrake turned back to Penelope.

"By the way," he said casually, "I believe you heard Mr. Hamilton telling us about the Resistance member Jessica Whitwell was questioning? It might interest you to know that he has given us the names of three more, all of whom are of a considerably higher rank than he had been. So withholding the name of your leader will do you little good."

"Ignore him," Cerebaton spoke up again despite his prickling essence, for he had seen Penelope flinch, "He could be lying,"

Another gesture; the Orb shrank even more, so that Cerebaton was forced to take on the form of the cat again to keep the vibrating field from grazing his head. Still Penelope remained quiet. So far, so good…but she hadn't been threatened yet.

"I'll ask you, then," Mandrake said, the stone slab he was standing upon inching nearer to Penelope's platform. "What is your leader's name?"

Silence.

"You have one more chance to answer, and then your Orb starts shrinking," Mandrake warned. "What is her name?"

Penelope didn't speak, and with a signal from Mandrake her Orb began to shrink. Rather than quickly dropping to a fraction of its original size as Cerebaton's had done, it slowly began to creep inwards.

"I can see you're frightened; you can't conceal it," Mandrake said, eyes glittering. No doubt he was gloating inwardly. His tone turned from mocking to almost gentle in a heartbeat: "All you have to do is give me the name, and the Orb will expand again. I'd rather you weren't harmed, actually."

"I'll bet," Cerebaton muttered. His Orb shrank another few inches warningly. The dome above Penelope's head was a third lower than it had been before, and still it shrank at the same steady, maddening pace.

"Penelope," Mandrake persisted, the kindness he was forcing into his voice more horrifying than persuasive, given the situation, "Tell me her name. Think about it: what harm could it possibly do? Your leader has disappeared; she's probably hundreds of miles away from London by now. We have almost no hope of finding her even if you tell us who she is."

And if she doesn't tell you the name, you have no hope at all, Cerebaton finished silently. Apparently Penelope was thinking the same thing: her mouth stayed resolutely closed. She had paled again, though – Cerebaton could tell even through the shimmering barrier of the Orbs. Her Orb had shrunk by another third of its original size. A moment later Penelope sank down so that she was sitting on the marble platform so as to evade the crackling energy.

"Penelope," Mandrake said, his tone one of urgency now, "You can stop the Orb. Just say the name and you'll be safe."

Penelope drew her legs up to her chin: the sides of the Orb were now too close for her to keep them stretched out too far. Her lips were pressed so tightly together that they were as white as her face. There was a slight sizzling sound – the loose hairs drifting around the end of her dark braid were too close to the barrier. She snaked a hand around the back of her neck and pulled the braid over the front of her shoulder, hunching her shoulders so that she was almost curled up into a ball. With a sigh, Mandrake snapped his fingers. The Orb stopped shrinking, though it was small enough to ensure that Penelope would soon be extremely uncomfortable, since she had to remain curled up to avoid touching any part of the dome.

"I have to admit, you've shown more grit than I thought you had," Mandrake said casually. "But it can only get worse from here. I wasn't, as your spirit companion seems to believe, lying when I said I'd rather you weren't hurt…" Cerebaton scoffed softly at this, but for once it went ignored. "…However, if you insist on being difficult, I'm afraid that's what this will come to. I'll ask you one last time: what is your leader's name?"

Cerebaton saw Penelope clamp her eyes shut, arms tight around her legs. A soft whimper escaped her, but no more. Mandrake waited for several minutes, and upon receiving no answer sighed in something that, had it been from anyone else, Cerebaton would have interpreted as regret. "Very well – you've forced my hand."

And the Orb continued to shrink.

Author's Note: Sorry about the wait. If it's not too presumptuous of me after such a long delay, I'd like to beg for feedback. It's extremely important to me that I write the canon characters correctly, and also that my original characters are realistic. Any advice you have to offer would be much appreciated. Thanks!