A/N: I don't remember whose review I replied to and whose I haven't, so I'm thanking everyone who reviewed chapter 20 here: fikle, Hello, LandUnderWave, XxBlackChaosxX, fredsgurl, Apo, Phoenix, Fredryck, Glitterfrost, Queen Dragon, Mewhoelse, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, . s t o f i 3 ., Musica Diabolos, Gryffon5147, Jardin, Saldaen farmgirl, Lieu Of Flowers, HPLB, My Graffitied Façade, sally, Minish Link, ebtwisty9, allie, uptowngirl48, zippingzephyr, Soccer101

Note to over-sensitive readers: make sure you have a tissue at hand. You might need it.

This was a very difficult chapter to write – the only thing I ever wrote that was as sad as this one was More Than Life Itself, my Superman one-shot. Sometimes I just feel the need to write something horribly sad… :(

Chapter 21

Nobody's Son

It all happened in a second, yet to Nathaniel it seemed like a slow motion picture: Esther let out a shriek and jumped before the child, the ball of fire hit her in the chest, illuminating her whole body for a few seconds as though she'd been struck by a lightning, then she collapsed like a rag doll…

"Motheeeeeer!" Someone cried, and for a while Nathaniel hadn't even realised it had been him.

"Oops," Jane said with pretended shock. "It was meant for the kid… of course, the kid wouldn't have been damaged so much, as she's young and strong… but perhaps it's better this way. Little Martha has seen what I can do to someone who disobeys me." She clapped, and Geoffrey revealed his original looks – a blue creature with a dozen long arms - and wound his arms tightly around the little girl, who was too shocked to try to get free. She just hung in the demon's grip, her eyes fixed on Mrs Dawson's unmoving form. In the next instant Geoffrey was already carrying her towards his mistress' car.

"Jane…" Nathaniel hissed.

"John." She gave him a grimace and began walking towards her car.

"Don't turn your back on me when I'm talking to you!"

She turned around. "In your place I'd be caring for your mother instead of shouting at me… who knows, this might be your last chance…"

Nathaniel glanced at his daughter who was still staring at the matron's sprawled form over the demon's shoulder. Her huge blue eyes met Nathaniel's for a second, and he thought he saw silent accusation in them, meaning 'why don't you do something, O Mighty Deputy Prime Minister?'

"Son…"

Nathaniel tore his glance away from Martha's to look at Esther. His heart wrenched at the sight of her tormented face. Forgetting about his daughter, Jane, Geoffrey and everything else, he crouched down next to her, taking her head into his lap. "Shhh… don't speak. You'll be fine."

A small, sad smile appeared on the woman's face – a smile that must have taken her great effort to show. "You know I won't."

Somewhere behind him, the door of a car slammed shut and an engine started.

"Why…?" Nathaniel asked. "Why did you do it?" For someone like him, love that was powerful enough to induce self-sacrifice was hardly understandable. First Kitty, now his mother… what were these women thinking, risking their lives for others? He just didn't get it. It wasn't reasonable.

"Why?" Esther whispered. "I lost my children and went through hell because of it. I couldn't… couldn't let you lose yours. Get her… back… from that horrible woman… Martha… my little angel… She escaped from London… So clever… you were just as clever as she is… a child prodigy… I always knew you'd be a great magician some day… to make me proud…"

"I'm not a great magician…" Nathaniel replied, his voice wavering. "And I haven't made you proud. I'm so… so sorry, Mother. Can you ever forgive me?"

Esther reached out with the last vestiges of her strength and squeezed his hand. "It's not me… who has to forgive you… but Kitty and Martha. Get… get them back, Nathaniel. Fame… power… money… it can't make someone happy… you aren't happy, I know… I've seen it in your eyes whenever… whenever you appeared in the TV… But you can be happy, Son. Get your family back… and hold onto them. Nothing else can make you whole."

"But I can't… Jane… she has power over Martha…" Nathaniel held his tears at bay, not allowing them free flow. Not yet, anyway.

"The power she has over her… It's evil power. But love… it's a good power. And you love Martha… don't you?"

"I… I think so," he replied, not sounding very believable, as he himself didn't know what he felt for the child. He didn't even know her at all, how could he love her then?

Esther, however, didn't seem to notice the insecurity in his voice. "Then you will find a way," she said, her voice barely whisper.

"I will, Mother," he whispered back with a sudden, new-found determination. He didn't know where it came from and why, but he felt it all the same. "I will get them back."

The woman squeezed his hand once more. "I know. I believe in you." The hand squeezing Nathaniel's slipped off his.

Nathaniel was no longer holding back his tears.

Jane Farrar was going to pay for this.

o o o O O O o o o

Mary, the younger – and now only – matron of the orphanage left the building a few minutes later with a lit torch, yawning. "What happe-" The word stuck in her throat as her glance fell upon Nathaniel kneeling in the dirt, holding Esther's unmoving form in his arms.

The young man blinked as the torch's light fell upon his face. Mary saw that his eyes were blood-shot and his face tear-soaked.

"What… what happened?" she whispered, crouching down next to him. "Esther? Esther! The doctor, I'll go and fetch the doctor-"

Nathaniel shook his head. "He can no longer help. No one can. My mother is dead."

Mary clutched at her heart. "How did this happen?"

"I'll tell you inside," he said warily, scooping up Esther's body and carrying it into the building.

o o o O O O o o o

Half an hour later everyone in the orphanage was awake and shocked by the tragedy. The orphans were murmuring outside Esther's room.

Once Nathaniel had finished telling Mary the details of Jane's attack, he rose to his feet. "I've got to go now," he said.

"Go?" Mary frowned, glancing at Esther's body lying on her bed. "But… the funeral… aren't you staying…?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "She wouldn't want me to stay. She made me promise something to her before she died. I'm leaving for London to fulfil her last wish. Would you… would you leave me alone with her… just for a minute?"

Mary nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Nathaniel walked over to the bed and bent down, pressing a kiss on Esther's forehead. He shuddered as his lips touched her cold skin. "I hope you knew that… despite everything… I loved you. Love you. I hope… I hope you hear me from above… If you do, then… thank you for everything. Thank you for being such a loving mother to such an ungrateful son. I wish I had told you this while you were alive… but it's too late. I came too late… I wasted all the years I could have spent with you, as your son… I'm so sorry. I let power and fame stand between us, like with Kitty and Martha… but never again. I will keep my promise, whatever it costs. I won't disappoint you again. Rest in peace, Mother."

He walked out of the room, said a quick good-bye to Mary and marched past the pyjama-clad, shocked orphans without giving them a second glance.

o o o O O O o o o

He was already driving down the main road when he realised he'd started crying again. Mad at himself for his weakness, and even madder at himself for his blindness that had made him fail to see the really important things in life, he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his flannel shirt. He'd cried enough – in this short space of time he'd cried more than in his whole life. It was time to stop weeping. What happened was past him, and what would happen in the future depended on him only. He had to be strong for his family. Family. The word sounded weird, unfamiliar even in his mind. It was heart-wrenching to think that just a few days ago he still had a family, albeit a somewhat distant one: a mother, a wife and a daughter. Now he had no mother, no wife, and even his daughter had been taken from him. One usually doesn't realise the real value of things he possesses until he loses them.

He sniffed, blinking back the last tears that wanted to run down his cheeks, and decided to take his mind off his misery, just as long as he reached London. He'd have loads of time to think of a plan there.

He switched on the radio, hoping that it would distract him for a while.

"…and now, the midnight news," a lady's voice announced. "At ten thirty tonight, there was a mass breakout from the Tower – all forty-seven Resistance members have escaped. Deputy Prime Minister John Mandrake is suspected to have assisted them-"

"What?" Nathaniel gasped.

"Prime Minister Rupert Deveraux was awoken by the security magicians from the Tower reporting the breakout of the infamous terrorist group. They have placed a recording at the Prime Minister's disposal – a recording that shows the Deputy Prime Minister, wearing baggy clothing rather uncharacteristic of him – punching in the security code-"

Nathaniel glanced at his clothing – yes, it was baggy, but… he had been at Fenny Bridges, not in the Tower!

"…the security code known only to the Deputy Prime Minister and his one-time assistant, the current Minister for Internal Affairs, Francis Ffoukes. Mr Ffoukes finds it out of the question that Mr Mandrake could have been the perpetrator, but all the evidence speaks against him. For one, the man on the recording looks exactly like him. You might certainly think it could have been a demon in his form, but how could a demon have known the secret code that was known only to him and Mr Ffoukes?"

"The memory-wipe," Nathaniel muttered.

"The Deputy Prime Minister must have planned the breakout thoroughly, but to his misfortune, he didn't know that only two days ago the old camera system was extended with a dozen new cameras that work with a code different from the old system. By having punched in the code, Mandrake thought to have disabled the whole camera system, oblivious to the fact that his code didn't work on the newly installed cameras that eventually recorded him freeing the convicts. 'But what kind of a reason would the Deputy Prime Minister have to assist the Resistance members in escaping?' – you might ask.

As we found out from Miss Jessica Whitwell, Mr Mandrake behaved in a rather disturbed way yesterday - he seemed inattentive and left Whitehall hours before he was supposed to, mumbling about feeling tired and having a headache. Miss Whitwell reckons it is possible the betrayal of his wife had gone on Mr Mandrake's nerves. Mrs Mandrake – now again Miss Jones – used to be a member of the Resistance, and her relationship to her husband started to go downhill after her husband managed to round up the Resistance. Yesterday Miss Whitwell heard Mr Mandrake talking about his wife to Mr Ffoukes. In this discussion, the Deputy Prime Minister had said that he'd do anything to get his wife back. And the emphasis here is on 'anything'. The obviously disturbed Mr Mandrake seems to have found releasing the terrorists a good way to win his ex-wife's love back."

Nathaniel groaned. The world was full of idiots.

"As we found out from Miss Whitwell, the Prime Minister – albeit with a heavy heart – divested Mr Mandrake of his Parliamentary privilege, at least for the duration of the investigations. While the Prime Minister and a few of his higher-ranking ministers are holding an urgency meeting at Whitehall, the Police are looking for Mandrake. They visited the Deputy Prime Minister's house but apparently he hadn't returned to his home after the Tower incident. They questioned Mandrake's two demons who admitted that their master had left home around six p.m., wearing baggy clothing, just like the man in the recordings. The Prime Minister is hoping that Mr Mandrake soon gives himself up willingly and presents the Police with a sufficient alibi, otherwise Mr Deveraux will be forced to remove him from office. And now, the weather-forecast…"

Nathaniel turned off the radio, his mind racing. True, he had no alibi. At ten-thirty he had been driving down the main road towards Fenny Bridges with no one around to tell they had seen him. He hadn't even stopped by a petrol station on the way to the village… Come to think of it, he hadn't stopped by a petrol station for ages.

He glanced at the fuel gauge to see that he was running low on petrol. He'd have to stop by the next filling station. And there… He didn't even know how this idea came to him all of a sudden, but it seemed logical. He couldn't go back to London now with no alibi – the magicians wouldn't even listen to him and would throw him into the Tower without a trial. There were quite a few magicians who had been envious of his career for ages, and they'd be only happy to see him behind bars. Ffoukes, the poor chap, had apparently been mind-wiped – whoever had done that to him, had got the secret code and had used it against Nathaniel. The real perpetrator must have sent a demon – preferably a powerful one, an afrit or a marid - to impersonate him. How they had managed to find out what kind of clothes he had worn upon leaving his house, he didn't know, but apparently they had found it out and instructed the demon to appear like him, wearing the exact replica of his current clothing.

From what he'd heard, Deveraux still seemed to be on his side, but sometimes not even the Prime Minister's power was enough to solve certain problems... And in a situation like this, it was expected of Deveraux to 'not afford sentimentality' and deprive him of the Parliamentary privilege. It was a wonder he hadn't dismissed him as his deputy at once. It meant Deveraux still believed, or at least hoped, that he was innocent, but he, Nathaniel had to prove it. First, however, he wanted to get his daughter back. Jane wouldn't dare use Martha's name against her, he was sure of it (or at least strongly hoped). She'd been just bluffing when she'd threatened him with that. She would, however, tell the magicians without scruple that he had a forbidden heir, just to discredit him. And, for the time being, he didn't mind getting discredited even more. After the Tower incident, he doubted the revelation that he was a father would do his reputation any more harm.

The petrol station came into view and Nathaniel drove off the road. Sometimes it's hardships that strengthen you, and Nathaniel didn't remember when he'd last felt so strong and determined. He had five tasks to complete: find Kitty, get his daughter back, take revenge on Jane, prove his innocence and catch the real perpetrator. And for all five tasks, he knew just whose help to call upon.

o o o O O O o o o

I felt a familiar tugging at my essence. I tried to resist the feeling, but it was getting stronger and stronger by the second. Resistance is futile! – the sentence ran through my mind. Yeah, I pretty much liked Star Trek, seen a few episodes while spying on the 'lovebirds' in the Mandrake house. Now it seemed to have happened an eternity ago, though I really didn't know how much time had passed since Jane Farrar had dismissed me. After all, we magical entities lose our track of time in the Other Place.

For a second I wondered what form I should assume, and decided for a saber-toothed tiger, just to scare my new master, whoever it was. Besides, I was kind of getting bored of the feathered serpent. Every second spirit these days appeared as a feathered serpent (they must have got the idea from me), so I wanted to try something different. I was unique, after all. I was Bartimaeus of Uruk! Sakhr al-Jinni! N'gorso the Mighty! The Serpent of Silver Pl… well, the latter no longer.

The saber-toothed tiger appeared in the pentacle standing on his hind legs, his claws protruding from his paws in a threatening way, his razor-sharp teeth gnashing, then…

"Meow?" The shock had caused the huge animal to turn into a tiger-cub and let out a very undignified sound. "I mean… you?" the cub growled at his master.

The magician before me was Nathaniel. He looked older and thinner than the last time I saw him, had shadows under his eyes and smudges on his cheeks that might have been caused by tears, and his hair was more horrible than ever, but it was undoubtedly him. Not to mention that he was again wearing a farmer's clothing that didn't suit him in the slightest. To put it in a nutshell: he looked crappy. This made me rather cheerful. But my cheerfulness had gone as soon as it had come, because I suddenly remembered what I had done against him under Jane Farrar's orders. In the Other Place I had always found something to distract me from thinking of my guilt, but now as I was again in this world, it attacked me with doubled force.

To hide how embarrassed I was feeling at the moment, I turned into Ptolemy, looking around with a casual expression. I established that the pentacle I was standing in was a rather makeshift one, drawn on a dark blue tiled floor. To my right, there was a dripping tap, to my left, there were two cubicles. Two rather smelly cubicles "Hey, am I right assuming that we're in a public toilet?" I asked with a disgusted face.

Nathaniel glowered at me from behind the curtain of his ridiculously long hair. "What if we are?"

"It means you've either sunk very low or you're in deep shit, Kid. Or both."

His face twitched. "I am. So what?"

"Too bad… You know, normally I'd be happy about your being in deep shit, but as you are my master again, your being in deep shit means I will have to lift you out of it, and that is just icky, and-"

"Will you just shut up?" the kid snapped. "My wife left me, my daughter has been kidnapped by my ex-lover, my mother has just died in my arms and the whole of Great Britain thinks I'm a criminal, so don't rile me, Bartimaeus!"

I blinked. "Your mum died? Oh… sorry. She was a nice woman."

The kid frowned. "How do you know? You never met her…"

Oops. In my eagerness to express my sympathy, I let it slip that I had known Esther. I made a grimace and examined my toes that were poking out of my Egyptian sandals.

"How – do – you – know?" the kid repeated, his voice more demanding this time.

I heaved a sigh. I had been expecting this would happen, though I had seriously hoped it wouldn't. Now I could have blackmailed the kid with his name again, but I just couldn't bring myself to. It was possible that the tragedies that had recently happened to him had something to do with me delivering information to the Tramp. And then it had been at least partly my fault.

"Sit down," I told him.

"Sit down? Where?"

"On the ground, on a toilet seat, anywhere."

"I'd rather stand," he replied, his blood-shot eyes glinting defiantly.

Oh well, I had just wanted to make it somewhat easier for him. But if he's as stubborn as a mule, then it's his problem…

"Okay, Kid, it's like this: judging by your current looks, you might be around twenty-five, which means that the Tramp summoned me about six years ago."

"The Tramp?" Nat blinked.

"Jane Farrar."

"Oh."

"Why, don't you think she's a tramp?"

"Yes, she is, but… why did she summon you at all?"

I rolled my eyes. "To take revenge on her unfaithful lover. That's you."

The kid blanched. "What… what did she make you do? She surely didn't… You didn't…?"

"Tell her your name?" I made a grimace and looked away. "I didn't want to."

"You didn't want to, and you didn't…?" he asked hopefully. I had to be cruel and dash his hopes.

"Sorry, Kid. She forced me to."

"She forced you?" he hissed, his face still pale but there were rosy patches on his cheeks. His eyes were glinting in a menacing way. I knew this look, and it meant he was on the verge of shouting and tearing his hair. Not that it would have done him much damage if he'd indeed started to tear his hair. He had too much of it anyway. "What do you mean by forced?"

"She tortured and almost killed me." I looked directly into his eyes. "I had two choices only: to die or to tell her your name. What would you have done in my place?"

He stared at me for a few seconds, not knowing what to answer. Finally, he shrugged. "I would have betrayed you."

"Oh, good. I mean, not good, but… now at least you can't blame me. Anyone would have done the same."

"Not Kitty," he said quietly.

"Well… yeah. She's a very special girl," I agreed. "You don't deserve someone like her, I hope you know that."

To my surprise, he nodded. "But I want to deserve her, Bartimaeus. I've screwed up too many things and I want to put them right. And you will help me."

"Says who?" I leaned against the tiled wall. "What can you blackmail me with this time? I still know your name, remember?"

He waved. "I doubt if you could cause me more damage than I have already suffered. I've reached the absolute low point in my life, and if that makes you feel happy – I've never felt so horrible before. But it's not about me this time. It's about a promise I made to my dying mother, and a promise I made to Kitty's parents. I will give them their daughter back, and I will give Kitty her daughter back."

"You mean, little Martha? Would you give up on her once she's back with Kitty?"

Nathaniel cast his eyes down. "If Kitty has indeed stopped loving me… if she never wants to come back to me… then yes. I'll do everything to give Martha back to her and I'll let them live happily." He suddenly looked up. "How do you know Martha's name?"

"The same way I know your mother's. The Tramp sent me spying on you and Kitty."

He pursed his lips, and I could almost hear the cogwheels whirring in his head. "When exactly?"

"A few hours before Martha's conception, I'm guessing," I replied with a cheeky grin.

The kid's eyes bulged. "The shield! You… were you…?"

I heaved a dramatic sigh. "Yeah. I had to get into the house, and had to disable the shield, and forgot to re-enable it before it was too late… So go ahead and shout at me. It's all my fault."

To my surprise the shout never came. Instead the kid shook his head. "No, Bartimaeus. It's nobody's fault. It was an accident that wasn't supposed to happen, but… I'm glad it did."

I would have sworn I'd seen the ghost of a smile flash across his face. "Had Martha not come into our lives, I wouldn't have had a chance to meet my mother. Although I barely spent any time with my mother, it was enough to make me see the more important things in life. Had Kitty never got pregnant, we would have very likely stayed a happy, enamoured couple for a few months, but my thirst for power would have ruined our relationship anyway. And then, there would have been no one to make me see how stupid I had been. Kitty had tried and tried to make me notice the mistakes I was making, but she failed." He hugged himself and rubbed his arms – no wonder, it was dawn and really cold. "I think… I needed to see my mother die… to realise that I had been going down the wrong path for years." He sniffed, and I was sure he was trying to keep his tears at bay. "When we found out about Martha's arrival… I thought it was the worst thing that could happen to me. I thought it was a curse. But I met her just two days ago. She's… she's so much like Kitty, Bartimaeus… She's supposed to be a blessing, not a curse."

"You know, Kid, I never thought I'd ever hear the voice of reason from you, but I'm delighted it happened. I must admit I was really mad at you when you forced Kitty to move to the back of beyond and risk her and the baby's life… and I was even angrier when you left her at Christmas to give a stupid speech in London."

Again the same, embarrassed smile flashed across his face. "Don't even mention it. Say, Bartimaeus… how long exactly were you spying on us, and how much did you see?"

"I kept spying on you until your kid was born, then I had to deliver her name to the Tramp-"

"Aha!" Nathaniel breathed. "So that's how she found out about me having a child!"

"…as for how much I had seen…" I continued as though he hadn't interrupted so rudely, "I saw just enough to lose my appetite for ever watching erotic movies in the future."

The kid blushed furiously. "Did you see… everything?"

"Pretty much, yes. Though sometimes, when it was completely dark in your room, I just heard things. Mostly about horses."

If it was possible to blush even more, the kid managed it. His face was pinker than a baboon's backside, and that's saying something.

"I didn't want to embarrass you… you asked what I'd seen, I just replied." I shrugged. "Listen here, Kid. I might be faulty and I might not – it doesn't matter, but I want to get back on that Jane Farrar just as much as you do. Because I expect you do?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped. "Jane killed my mother and tore our daughter from Kitty and me! Though… I don't think she has anything to do with the Tower incident…"

"What Tower incident?" I looked politely confused.

Nathaniel leaned against a cubicle door. He looked very tired all of a sudden. "Apparently, a few hours ago someone released a bunch of convicts from the Tower and they think it was me."

"You? But you were here all along… weren't you?" I looked at him with a suspicious expression.

"No, not here, in Fenny Bridges," he grunted. "You don't seriously think I'd be foolish enough to release the Resistance once I had them behind bars?"

"The Resistance? You mean, the same Resistance that Kitty had been a part of?"

"Yeah."

"You sent her buddies into prison?"

"Yes!" He banged his fists angrily into the door, which resulted in the door opening and him falling into the cubicle, barely missing the toilet itself. What a pity. After what I had just heard from him, I thought he would have deserved it. Oh well, one can't have every wish fulfilled…

"Are you going to stay sitting there, O Master Mine?" I asked as he was struggling to stand up from the slippery tile floor. I seriously didn't know what had made it slippery… hopefully only the leaking cistern.

"Give me a hand," he hissed.

I detached my hand from my arm and tossed it into his lap. "Here."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

I bent down to pick my hand up and put it into its place. "I was just trying to lighten your dark mood. Not that you deserve it… but do tell me more about this Tower incident."

I pulled him up and he summarised the newscast he'd heard at midnight.

"Sounds bad," I said.

"I know. Can you help?"

"You're the brains, buddy. You make up things, I pull them off."

"Right." He nodded, looking determined. "Problem is… I don't yet know how we'll do it. I'll make up something. But first I want you to go and find a black Renault heading towards London, very likely on main road A30. It must be around halfway between Fenny Bridges and London. Jane and her demon Geoffrey are holding my daughter captive in that car. I want you to free her and bring her to me. Better, bring Jane too. And make sure Jane can't mutter any spells. Gag her or something. And be quick. As long as they're on the main road, Jane can't summon any more formidable demons than Geoffrey, and Geoffrey isn't that great, just a second level djinni, a piece of cake for you."

I must admit, that was quite flattering. Sometimes it felt good to hear things like that, and my ego seriously needed some boosting after the latest Jane Farrar affair. "What shall I do with this Geoffrey?"

"Dunno. Eat him."

"Ew."

"Don't be choosy."

"I'm not choosy, I just have a good taste."

"How do you know that Geoffrey isn't to your taste?" Nathaniel grinned.

I wrinkled my nose. The kid was getting irritating again. I could have blackmailed him to dismiss me at once, yes. But I didn't have the heart. I wasn't helping him for him. I was doing it for Kitty and little Martha. And to get my personal revenge on the Tramp.

o o o O O O o o o

"Sir…"

Deveraux was too deeply immersed in discussing the night's events with a dozen ministers to notice the unfortunate commoner servant who had politely tried to draw the Prime Minister's attention to himself.

"Sir… Mr Deveraux, Sir…?"

"What?" The Prime Minister barked at the servant. He was usually a good-natured, calm person who never snapped at anyone and never showed if he was agitated, but the apparent betrayal of his deputy whom he'd regarded as a son, had shaken him enough to make him snappish.

"There… there is a lady outside, Sir, who wishes to talk to you."

"A lady?" Deveraux arched an eyebrow at the frightened commoner. "Who?"

"She says her name is Kathleen Jones, Sir."

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty couldn't have explained why she'd come to Whitehall. She could as easily have stayed at 'home' and gone back to sleep. Problem was that she couldn't go back to sleep. She had awoken shortly before midnight and as she walked into the tiny kitchenette to fill a glass with water, she heard the television from the adjacent room. She hadn't been paying attention at first, but when the name 'Mandrake' was mentioned, she got interested and started to listen to the midnight news properly. When she'd heard what those idiots were accusing Nathaniel of, she decided she had to do something.

And now, here she was, standing before the door beyond which the Prime Minister and a select few ministers were having a meeting, talking about her husband. Ex-husband, she reminded herself. She hadn't yet got used to not being Nathaniel's wife any longer. Despite the fact that they hadn't been intimate with each other for five years, it had been somehow natural for Kitty that she was his wife; that they belonged together. It was hard to accept it was over, even if it had been her who'd left him in the end.

"The Prime Minister is waiting for you, Miss." The servant who had announced her arrival, led her into a medium-sized, richly decorated room whose floor was marble and whose walls were almost completely covered with enormous mirrors, perhaps to make the room look bigger. There was a round table at the middle and several rows of seats around, but none of the ministers were sitting – Deveraux himself was pacing up and down, fervently explaining something to Jessica Whitwell.

As he noticed Kitty, he stopped in his stride and seemed to have forgotten whatever he had been explaining to Nathaniel's one-time master.

"Miss Jones." He forced a smile on his face. "To what do I owe the honour…?"

"Mr Deveraux." Kitty nodded her head, unwilling to bow as most commoners did to the Prime Minister. "I've come to talk to you about John."

"I suspected as much." Deveraux said with a benign expression. Kitty thought she saw the glimmer of hope in the man's eyes – the hope that John hadn't betrayed him and Kitty was about to prove it. "Do you know about your hus… I mean, Mr Mandrake's whereabouts?"

"No, Sir. But I'm sure he didn't do it. He wouldn't do such a thing."

"And what makes you think that?" Miss Whitwell asked coldly.

"I know him, Sir," Kitty continued, deliberately talking to the Prime Minister only, ignoring Whitwell and the rest of the ministers (who, to Kitty's knowledge, had all been envious of the progress of Nathaniel's career). "He might still love me as the newscast said, but he's no fool. He wouldn't free anyone from the Tower, not even if he knew that would make me happy. Besides, he has proved me enough times that he doesn't love me enough to risk his hide in any respect. John is a man of reason and rationality and doesn't let emotions control him. He never did. That was why I left him in the end."

"And what makes you think he didn't want to prove you that, for your love, he'd still let his emotions take over?" an old minister whose name Kitty had forgotten asked with a rather malicious expression.

These people were enjoying the opportunity to speak ill of Nathaniel, Kitty realised. "Because my hus… ex-husband doesn't know what emotions are," she replied, her eyes returning to the Prime Minister. "He's cold and impassive and wouldn't start to play a modern Robin Hood just to prove his undying love to a woman whom he doesn't even know where to find. Be sensible, Sir…" She looked around with a determined face, "You all, be sensible! He wouldn't do such a thing! He didn't do it!"

Deveraux shook his head with an indulgent smile. "You're saying John's a man without emotions, and yet, you love him so much that you come here to shout at the leaders of the Empire. There has to be something emotional about John if he managed to wake feelings like that in you, don't you think, dear?"

Kitty's eyes narrowed. "So, you're still suspecting him?"

"I never said I did," the Prime Minister replied. "Innocent until proven guilty. But I fear, too many things speak for his guilt."

"I can't believe it…" Kitty whispered. "This is all a conspiracy! Don't you see it, Sir? Someone wants to frame John! To destroy his reputation out of… I don't know, envy, thirst of power, or…"

"Enough, Miss Jones," Deveraux said calmly but determinedly.

She shook her head. "You're making a huge mistake."

"Then I will suffer the consequences."

"All right, Sir. But I hope I'll be there to see you apologising to John," Kitty said through gritted teeth. "Good-bye."

"Er… Miss Jones?" the Prime Minister called after her.

"Yes?"

"You will be there to see it – whether the apology or something else, time will tell. Until then, be my guest."

Kitty knitted her eyebrows. "Your guest… or your prisoner?"

Deveraux heaved a sigh. "Let's say… a guest who isn't allowed to leave." He clapped, and two of his afrits appeared at once. "Lead Miss Jones to my office. Give her anything she needs, but make sure she stays there."

Kitty sent the Prime Minister a withering glance as the afrits showed her the way towards her new 'golden cage'. In her eagerness to help her undeserving husband, (ex-husband, she corrected herself), she had given his enemies a bait to lure Nathaniel into the trap.

o o o O O O o o o

A/N: okay, I admit Esther was created in order to be killed. Cruel, isn't it?

This reminds me… doesn't Nat resemble Anakin Skywalker in many respects? Once I got the idea of writing a little essay as to why Nat reminded me of Anakin. Now I'm copy-pasting it here, in case you're interested.

The parallels between the two characters:

Both of them have very poor parents. Anakin's mum is a slave on Tatooine, and he doesn't even have a proper father (only the Force, LOL). Nathaniel's parents are presumably commoners who needed money so much that they sold their own child. Sold boys – from a certain point of view, both are slaves.

Anakin's talents aren't appreciated by anyone on Tatooine – that's why he needs to build a racing pod in secret. Watto and Sebulba (and even his little friends in Mos Espa) laugh at his ambitions to be a pod racer. Nathaniel knows that if he learns only what his master Arthur Underwood lets him, then he will never become a proper magician, so he starts studying more complicated things in secret. Underwood thinks he's untalented and keeps telling him so, humiliating him all the time.

Anakin swears revenge on the Tuskens who killed his mother and he kills them all. Nathaniel swears revenge on Simon Lovelace who killed Mrs Underwood, the only woman he ever considered a mother-figure (and in my fic, Nat swears revenge on Jane who killed his mum). In the Amulet of Samarkand, Nat doesn't kill Lovelace with his own hands, but contributes to his death, so he does get his revenge.

Anakin destroys the enemy at the end of movie one, and this deed earns him the right to become a Jedi apprentice. Nathaniel destroys the enemy at the end of book one, and this earns him the right to get a proper master (Jessica Whitwell) who actually teaches him magic and lets his talents develop.

In movie two, Anakin already shows certain signs of megalomania: he thinks Obi-Wan and the rest of the Jedi masters are envious of his powers and that's why they're constantly forbidding him things. Nathaniel starts to show signs in megalomania in book one already, but in book two it's even more obvious.

Anakin becomes the youngest member of the Jedi Council. Nathaniel becomes the youngest Minister ever and the youngest member of Deveraux's Council.

In movie two, Anakin starts down the dark path but only turns evil in movie three. Nathaniel starts down 'the dark path' in book two, but at the beginning of book three (so I heard, after all, I haven't yet read book three), he's even nastier than in book two.

Anakin falls in love with Padme but never has a chance to be really happy with her because she dies. Nathaniel in book three is sort of falling for Kitty (at least I heard so), but never has a chance to be happy with her because he dies.

Anakin redeems himself by saving Luke and killing the Emperor. He sacrifices himself for the greater good. Nathaniel redeems himself by saving Bartimaeus and overall whole London (this is again something that I only heard from people who've read the third book), kills the demon Nouda and sacrifices himself for the greater good.

End of essay.

So, well – your thoughts on chapter 21? Shout at me, if you want. That means: review! ;)