A/N: finally, Ptolemy's Gate has been published in Hungary! Am currently reading it.
Review responses sent out as usual, hope you got them (if not, then it was ffnet's fault).
Also thanks to: fiklefriend, Sally, TheWatcherandReader, LandUnderWave, Queen Dragon, Aiko Moonchild, Glitara Keladry Sophia, allie, Phoenix, xav, Apo, Minish Link, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, Gryffon5147, InuMewMew, I-Love-Escapest-Fantasy
In this chapter, my eternal love for Star Wars resurfaces. You know I simply can't write a fic without mentioning something StarWars-y in it? ;)
Chapter 22
Of Sith and Jedi
We left the public toilet and I established that we were at a petrol station.
"That's my car," Nat said, pointing at a grey Ford Fiesta parked nearby. "Memorise its looks and bring Martha and Jane to me before I reach London. Just appear on the A30 main road and make sure I notice you and that others don't. I don't want anyone to think you're trying to thumb a lift with a tied up Jane. I'll slow down with the car and you can get in. I have a map in the car, have a look at it to make sure you don't get lost."
"I don't usually get lost," I replied in a slightly hurt voice. The mere assumption was insulting. "Say, Kid, did you put that search sphere above your car?"
"The what?" Nathaniel blinked.
"I expected as much. Then someone else has sent one after you. No wonder you didn't notice, it isn't visible on the first three planes."
"So that's how they found out about my clothing," the kid muttered, his eyes distant, a contemplative expression on his face. "They must've been following me around for a while… Bartimaeus, this simplifies things so much! We only have to catch the imp that is used in the sphere and question it. Perhaps torture it a bit if it doesn't want to reveal who sent it."
"Okay, Kid, I'm on it," I said and turning into my vicious gargoyle form, I began running towards the kid's car and lunged at the imp hovering over it.
Somewhat later I looked up at Nathaniel's slightly worried face. I felt as dizzy and torn as though something had exploded into my face. "You okay?" the kid asked.
"S'pose so," I replied. "What the heck happened?"
"The imp exploded as soon as you jumped on it," he replied. "It was a self-destructive one."
"Self-destructive demons? Never heard of the sort…"
"I have." The kid made a face. "Years and years ago, I looked into my master's notes."
"Which master?" I groaned, massaging my temples. "Underwood or Whitwell?"
"Whitwell. She's been working on new spells for decades but she never really told anyone in case they might find her activities illegal or dangerous… One of the spells she wanted to develop was a spell to make your demons destroy themselves even from great distances. Like a remote control. You just push the button and the object explodes."
"Hey, you're talking about magical entities here!" I grunted. I never liked it when people talked about us as 'objects' without feelings. We did have feelings. For example, at the moment I was filled with various emotions: I hated Jane Farrar, I was slightly disgusted by Nathaniel (just as much as always), I felt sorry for Kitty and Martha and I was sad about Esther's death. See, I'm a very complex personality!
"Whatever." The kid waved. "The point is that I have a good reason to think that it was Whitwell who sent the sphere after me. And it's very likely that she was the one – or one of those – who made a demon assume my form and free the prisoners."
"But why would your ex-master do such a thing?"
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Envy. She has envied my talents from the moment I became her apprentice. She wanted to look the perfect master as long as I was helping her career, but when the Golem incident came, she turned her back on me because it seemed I was losing face. She no longer had any reason to support me. Then, when I managed to round up the Golem-"
"When we managed to round up the Golem," I reminded him.
"Yeah, okay, so when we managed to round up the Golem, she was again very eager to be friendly with me, but I saw through her. That was the point where her career started to go downhill. She lost the Prime Minister's trust and she was no longer in charge of the Tower. All her duties were passed to me. I expect she wasn't happy at all when I became Deveraux's deputy…"
"What?" I gasped. "You – Deputy Prime Minister?" I laughed out loud. "Tell me you're joking! Deveraux couldn't have been so foolish as to appoint someone as green as you!"
Nathaniel glowered at me. "I am the Deputy PM. And I'm not green. I've been in politics since fourteen and-"
"Okay, keep your hair on." I waved. "Give me that map."
The kid opened the car door and fished a map out of the glove compartment. "Here."
I studied it for a few minutes, then chucked it back at Nat. "Memorised it. Now I'm off to kidnap your kid from her kidnapper. And if I get stomach ache after I've eaten Geoffrey and start to vomit in your car, then don't blame me."
With that, I disappeared.
o o o O O O o o o
Martha was staring out of the Renault's window, deliberately not looking at her master. She was still in shock, although they had left Fenny Bridges over two hours before. She felt like crying, felt like accusing that evil Miss Farrar for having hurt poor Mrs Dawson, but she found that she couldn't utter a single word, nor could she shed any tears. Two feelings raged in her soul: worry for the matron and hatred for her master. She also wondered why that 'cute' Deputy Prime Minister had appeared in Fenny Bridges at all… And hadn't he screamed 'mother!' when Mrs Dawson had collapsed? Could he be Mrs Dawson's son? If yes, then why hadn't he ever visited her before? And why hadn't Mrs Dawson told anyone that she was the Deputy Prime Minister's mum?
"How long before we reach London?" Jane asked her demon.
"About an hour, Madam," Geoffrey replied.
Their words shook Martha out of her reverie – after they had left the village, none of them had uttered a single word, the only noise had been the soft murmur of the car's engine, and now it scared her to hear someone's voice. What scared her even more was that, in the next instant, a huge something jumped on the car's bonnet.
Geoffrey got so frightened that he jerked the steering wheel to left, sending the car off the main road. Thankfully the road was on the same level as the grass verge, so the Renault and its passengers didn't suffer any harm. Had they been driving in a mountainous area, they wouldn't have been this lucky. Geoffrey still couldn't call himself lucky, because the attacker jerked him out of the car as though he were nothing but a puppet. Jane Farrar shouted something at her demon in a language Martha didn't understand, and Geoffrey seemed to be trying to comply with her orders, putting up a struggle, but the attacker was stronger, quicker and cleverer. At least Martha seriously hoped it was. Not that she liked the idea of getting attacked by a huge and nasty demon, but at least she'd have a chance to get away from her master.
She cast a sideways glance at Miss Farrar who was staring at the fight outside. She seemed deeply immersed in rooting for Geoffrey…
Martha pushed the door handle as carefully and silently as possible, and slid out of the car. As soon as she got a few steps away from the Renault, she broke into a run.
"Wait!" Miss Farrar's voice screamed. Apparently she had noticed Martha's escape. Martha decided she wouldn't wait. The further she got away from the car and from the road, the more she got engulfed in darkness. She tripped over a stone and fell, then got up, wincing, and started to run again. Suddenly something jumped on her from behind and knocked her off her feet. The attacker didn't feel big and heavy, so it must have been a smaller demon, perhaps an imp or a sprite. Martha had seen her master summon smaller demons once in a while for smaller tasks when Geoffrey was busy with something else. The child had seen an imp appear for Miss Farrar just the day before. This must be the same imp, she decided. And an imp wasn't really dangerous. She knew, she'd read about it in a book she'd found left on the living room table. Normally Miss Farrar had shut her things away from the child, but she surely hadn't thought this one was dangerous to leave lying around. Perhaps she didn't even know Martha knew how to read yet.
"Hold her down!" Miss Farrar's voice shouted to the invisible demon sitting on the child's back. Martha gathered all her strength and rolled onto her back in the hope of crushing the demon under her.
The demon struggled, trying to get out from under the child. Martha felt a surge of magic course through her – the imp must have ejected it to make her jump off it, but it wasn't unpleasant in the least. It tickled a bit, but that was all. She kept valiantly fighting to flatten the imp that again sent a shot of magic at her – a shot that equalled an electric shock. Martha again felt nothing but a tingle. In the next instant, something big caught her and lifted her off the ground.
"Hey, making a pancake of that poor imp?" the Big Thing That Had Lifted Her Off The Ground said in an amused voice. "Nice show, Kid. Bet you have at least a partial resistance to magic. But tell you what, you can't resist me. I will still transport you to my master."
"Y…your master?" Martha muttered. She knew she was supposed to be afraid of the Big Thing, but the Big Thing's voice had sounded too friendly to be evil. "Miss Farrar?"
"Farrar?" The Big Thing laughed. "Nope. Farrar had only two demons: the one you've almost completely flattened and that Geoffrey whom I've just eaten. Mind you, he wasn't that tasty. Too salty."
"You've eaten my master's demon?" Martha made big eyes.
"Had to," the demon said, beginning to walk back towards the Renault, leaving the unfortunate, half-flattened imp groaning in the grass. "The kid instructed me to."
"The kid?" Martha frowned. Was this demon's master a child like her? She couldn't imagine that.
"Uh-huh. But most know him as John Mandrake."
"The Deputy Prime Minister?" the child gasped.
"Yeah. He sent me to kidnap you from the Tramp. I mean, Miss Farrar."
"Hey, that's cool! But what about the Tr… I mean, my master?"
"Don't worry about her," the demon replied, and with a few big strides he stopped next to the car. "See, she's all right."
Next to the car, Martha saw Jane's figure lying in the grass, her arms and legs tied together and her mouth gagged.
"I found some ropes in the car's boot," the demon holding Martha explained cheerfully. "Came in handy. And now, hold on tight to me, young lady. We're leaving." With that, he picked up Miss Farrar's disabled body, and vanished from the spot, leaving the Renault alone, to the spare parts-dealers' delight.
o o o O O O o o o
I appeared on the main road A30, about fifty kilometres from London. I was sure the kid couldn't have reached there yet, so I must have got there in time. There were tall lamps on both sides of the road. I stood with my charges under one of them to make sure the kid would spot us.
It was half past two in the morning, therefore barely any traffic. Whenever a car that wasn't Nat's passed by us (about one every ten minutes), I turned into a bush, hiding Martha and the gagged Tramp in my leaves. I can be really resourceful, you know. Martha was thoroughly enjoying the show I was putting on, and after the third time I changed into a bush, she was actually encouraging me to try newer and newer bush types. So I had to do a bramble, a hazelnut and wild rose. (Martha hid behind me when I performed the latter, but Jane Farrar wasn't that fortunate – she was hidden in the bush itself. When I turned back into a gargoyle to wave at the grey Ford Fiesta driven by none other than the kid, the Tramp looked like a hedgehog, thorns sticking out of her at random places. I enjoyed looking at her at that moment.)
Nathaniel stopped the car and opened the door. "Glad to see you in one piece, Bartimaeus. I told you Geoffrey was a pushover."
I made a grimace. "He tasted bad. Besides, what you made me do was cannibalism. Next time you go and eat a minister, and we'll see whether you like his taste or not." The kid rolled his eyes. "What shall I do with the Tramp?" I asked, swinging Jane Farrar a bit. She was currently hanging from my shoulder, showing Nathaniel her thorn-sprinkled backside.
The kid shrugged. "Put her into the boot. Make sure she gets fresh air but she can't kick the boot open or let anyone see her."
"Mmmmmhhhh," Jane commented as I unceremoniously dumped her into the boot.
"I agree," I told her cheerfully and slammed the lid of the boot shut.
Upon returning to the front of the car, I saw that Martha was still standing outside, not sure what to do. She appeared to be eyeing the kid and the kid seemed to be too mesmerised by the sight of her to notice that I had completed my task in temporarily getting rid of Miss Farrar. "Hey, anybody home?" I waved my hand before Nathaniel's eyes.
This seemed to shake him out of his dream-like state. "Uh, yes. Come, sit in the back seat." He gestured to Martha. The child looked at me, as if waiting for encouragement.
"Go on, do as he said. He means you no harm."
"I know that," she said, slipping into the Ford and dropping herself onto the back seat. "He saved me from my master's beating the day before yesterday. And he saved me from my master again. Thank you, Mr Deputy Prime Minister."
Nat turned around in the driver's seat, and despite the fact that the only light was provided by the lamp outside and various buttons on the dashboard, I thought I saw him blush. "You're… you're welcome," he said, quickly turning around and starting the engine.
I changed into Ptolemy and took a place on the passenger seat. "And now?"
"We're going to drive to London and leave the car somewhere on the outskirts," Nathaniel explained. "Better, I'm going to park on the outskirts, and you go get me new clothes. Something less baggy, but it doesn't need to be a suit. You may as well get me a pair of sunglasses."
"So, you're going into hiding?" I asked.
He made a grimace. "Just for a while. I don't want anyone to recognise me while I'm investigating. I only want to stand before Deveraux when I already have proof that this whole madness was done by Whitwell. If it was done by Whitwell at all. You might also get me a false number plate and exchange it for this one. I'm sure the Police are already looking for this car. Once you have the new clothes and number plate, we drive to that old library-"
"It still exists?" I interjected.
"Yes. Deveraux has plans for it, though. He wants to get it levelled and a new shopping mall built there. But so far, it's intact."
"As much as a ruin like that can be called intact," I remarked. "So, will that be our headquarters once again?"
"Not really. I just want somewhere to hide until you go for Ffoukes and bring him there."
"That bag of bones chap? I saw him at the Halloween ball all those years ago…"
"Yes, that's him."
"But why should I go and fetch him?"
Nathaniel bit into his lower lip. "Because… he's the only one from the government whom I more or less trust. I want to ask him to take in the child for as long as it takes to prove my innocence."
I glanced at Martha. She seemed alert and interested in every word we were saying. "But… why Ffoukes? Why not take her to her grandp-"
The kid rudely kicked me in the shin with his spare leg that wasn't on the accelerator. Apparently he didn't want Martha to find out about her grandparents – not yet, anyway. "She wouldn't be safe there," he said through gritted teeth. "I need a magician to guard her."
"Can't… can't I go with you, Mr Deputy Prime Minister?" the child's voice called from the back seat. "I promise to be a good girl and won't be under foot."
Nathaniel glanced at his daughter over his shoulder and I saw a small smile on his face. "It's not that you're under foot, it's just… you're a child. And I'm not risking a child's life. My mission might be dangerous. I'm fighting against evil magicians, and you know just how evil some magicians can be, right?"
The child wrinkled her nose. At that moment she resembled Nathaniel a lot. "Well, Miss Farrar is evil enough…"
"The ones I'm facing now might be even eviler," the kid explained to her.
"Oh." Martha commented, stifling a yawn. For the next five minutes no one spoke, and soon I realised that the soft, rhythmical breathing coming from the back seat meant that Martha had fallen asleep. No wonder, she must have felt horribly tired. Poor little one, so young and had to go through so much already, thanks to Nathaniel's egotism. Had he accepted her as his child when she was born, she wouldn't have had to go through hell at the age of five. I felt like returning the kick-in-the-shin I had recently received from the kid. But I held back. I didn't want Nat to cry out in pain and wake up sweet little Martha.
There was a blanket rolled up next to her on the back seat. I reached over the headrest of my seat, unrolled the blanket and covered her with it, feeling all fatherly all of a sudden. (Mind you, this was a new feeling for me; I had never yet taken care of such a young child).
Nathaniel saw was I was doing, but didn't comment.
"You know," I said when I sat back properly into my seat, "it's you who should have done it."
"I'm driving in case you haven't noticed," he grunted.
"I'm not talking about now," I replied coldly. "I'm talking about those five years you missed of her life. Those five years she missed you from her life."
"If you're trying to stir up my conscience, then spare your efforts. I've had pangs of remorse ever since she was conceived."
I gave the kid an incredulous glance. "And why did you have pangs of remorse? Because you insisted on that horsy thing?"
Nathaniel blinked. "What?"
"You know, the horsy thing. 'Ride me, Kitty!'. That was when she was conceived, wasn't it?"
The kid rolled his eyes. "I'd be grateful if you didn't keep reminding me of your voyeurism. And no, I'm not feeling guilty because I fathered her."
I glanced back at the child and she didn't seem to have heard a single word. A five-year old couldn't be a good enough actress to pretend to be asleep. "Then?" I pressed. "Why are you feeling guilty then?"
"You know that," Nathaniel muttered, avoiding my glance.
"No, I don't." I wanted to hear it from him. And no, not because I wanted to embarrass him, but because I wanted him to say it aloud. Sometimes people don't admit their feelings to themselves until they say it aloud. It's psychology.
The kid glowered at me. "I told you already. In the toilet. I screwed things up and want to put them right."
"But what exactly did you screw up?" I asked if I hadn't known it well enough.
"My life. Kitty's life. My mother's. Martha's. Heck, even Jane's."
"And why?"
"You know why, Bartimaeus!" he snapped.
"Shhhh!" I pressed my index finger on my mouth, pointing at the peacefully sleeping child. "Quieter. So, why did you screw up everyone's life?"
The kid gave me a dark glance. "Will you leave me alone with the madness?"
"No, as long as you don't reply. Say it, Nathaniel."
He pursed his lips, looking away, his eyes once again fixed on the motorway. "Because I was too proud and too selfish," he whispered, more to the steering wheel than to me. But he'd said it at last.
"Right there you are, kid." I nodded agreeably.
He glanced at me. "But I can't change, Bartimaeus. I might win this battle and give Martha back to Kitty, Kitty back to her parents and give people back their trust in me, but… what can I do with myself? What should I do, Bartimaeus?"
"That's something only you can know. But you've come a long way already, admitting your mistakes and deciding to make amends. You have taken the first few steps, and I'm sure your heart will tell you where to end your journey, which path to choose when you reach the crossroads. And who knows? Kitty and Martha might be there with you to walk down the path you've chosen. But only if you choose the right one."
He shook his head. "How will I know the right one? My whole life's been a huge mistake!"
"In the toilet, you said your mother's death made you see your mistakes. What do you think she would advise you?"
"I don't know… She only said… Her last words were that she… believed in me."
"Then the only thing you have to do is believe in yourself." I friendlily patted him on the shoulder. "Well… not the only. There's one more thing."
"What?" He raised an eyebrow at me.
"Your hair."
"What's your problem with my hair again?"
"If you want to change your appearance, you've got to get rid of those long ebony locks, Snow White."
Nat gave me a withering glance, and neither of us spoke until a board labelled 'London 30 miles' loomed into sight.
o o o O O O o o o
The kid parked his Ford in Chertsey around four in the morning. Martha was still happily dozing when I went on a 'shopping spree'. As it was so early in the morning with no shops open to steal things from, I had to nick a few pieces of clothing from honest commoners' homes. They never noticed I entered, rummaged through their wardrobes and left. I must admit I was tempted to bring the kid a beautiful, flowery summer dress (after all, he'd said he wanted something less baggy, but he never specifically said he wanted male clothing…) but when I imagined his hairy legs poking out from the skirt, I decided it was a bad idea. I feared I would be reacquainted with Geoffrey if I actually saw Nat like that…
On my way back from the commoner's house, I saw a pretty Mercedes parked nearby. I looked around to check that no one saw me, and with one deliberate tug, relieved it of its number plates. To not wake suspicion at once, I attached Nat's Ford Fiesta's in its place. If the car's owner is dumb enough, he won't notice the change for weeks. Unless he gets arrested because the Police believe he is the wanted Deputy Prime Minister.
When I arrived back at the Ford, I attached the new number plates to its front and back, then peered into the interior. An amazing sight greeted me. Nathaniel sat turned around in his seat, his jaw propped on the headrest. He was watching his daughter sleep. Now imagine that. Nathaniel, the cold hearted git, watching a child sleep, and smiling to himself. Smiling, gently and proudly. No, I haven't hit my head and haven't drunk anything either. I wasn't imagining it. Nathaniel was being fatherly. Wow.
"Let me express my opinion," I said, making Nat jump, "that the young lady on the back seat is the best thing you've ever made in your life."
The kid gave me a lopsided grin. "I don't know why, but… I was thinking the same."
I dumped the freshly nicked things into the Ford. "Here, change. I promise I won't look. Not that I haven't seen you without clothes… but before you change, let me take care of your hair."
"Do you really think it's necessary?" The kid wrinkled his nose. He didn't seem a bit happy about the prospect of losing his girly locks.
"Yes."
He heaved a sigh. "Then do it quick. And be careful, I don't want you to cut my ears off or something."
"Don't worry, Kid, you're in the best hands. I have been hairdresser to several important personalities, from Pharaoh Kufu to Katherine the Great. They never complained. Get out of the car."
"Why?"
I rolled my eyes. "I don't expect you want hair all over the driver's seat?"
"Oh," the kid said, looking somewhat slow on the uptake. It must have been due to his lack of sleep.
I made the kid sit on the Ford's bonnet and pulled the pair of scissors that I had 'borrowed' on my 'shopping spree', out of my pocket.
"Are you sure you have enough light to see what you're doing?" Nathaniel asked in a worried voice.
"We djinn can see well in the darkness, unlike you pathetic humans," I replied in a condescending tone. "Now stay put or I still might cut your ear off."
As long, black locks fell on his shoulders and into his lap, the kid made a suffering face as though I had been a dentist pulling out his teeth without anaesthetic.
"There, ready. Have a look at yourself in the wing mirror. I'm making some light for you."
I changed into a torch as the kid got off the bonnet to examine himself in said mirror. I did an outstanding job. His hair wasn't too short, but much shorter than it had been before. For one, his fringe no longer hid half of his face like a curtain (I was sure he'd soon realise the advantages of being able to see with both eyes), and the ends of his hair on the sides of his face reached just beyond the lowest point of his ears. It was still somewhat longer than a decent hairdo should be, but at least looked like a male. "Well?" the torch asked.
"Not bad," came the reluctant answer.
"Not bad? Is all that you can say to a Genius Hairdresser?"
Nat snorted and pulled his shirt off then got into the car to continue undressing there. He quickly changed into the dark blue trousers and maroon turtle neck jumper I had chosen for him. "What about the sunglasses?" he demanded.
"Sorry, I couldn't get you anything better than this." I handed him a pair of black-rimmed, round glasses. "Not real glasses, I found them among a child's toy stethoscopes. I expect he must have been using it to play doctors and nurses."
The kid put the spectacles on, grimacing as he examined his looks in the rearview mirror. "Horrible," he commented.
"I think you look like Harry Potter now," a sleepy voice called from the back seat. "I like it."
Nathaniel turned around to look at his yawning daughter. "How long have you been awake?"
"Just a few minutes," Martha replied, rubbing her eyes. "I woke when the demon was giving you a haircut… at least I think that was what he was doing. I couldn't see properly, it was dark. But I like your hair a lot. You look like a boy now, not a girl."
"Well, that is some praise," I laughed at Nat. "By the way, kid," I turned to Martha, "call me Bartimaeus. 'Demon' is so degrading."
o o o O O O o o o
They reached London just before daybreak. Nathaniel had been right to expect the air to be teeming with search spheres – no doubt the Police were looking for him. However, they were looking for a car with a different number plate and a driver wearing a flannel shirt, long hair and no glasses. The young man behind the steering wheel looked like a comic version of Harry Potter, and not one search sphere found him suspicious. Especially as there was a child sitting on the back seat. The Deputy Prime Minister didn't have children…
Nathaniel parked the Ford near the library, but far away enough to not wake suspicion. He didn't want to risk parking right before the shabby building.
He and Martha had to take a five-minute walk to get to the library. Nathaniel thought it was a wonder the building hadn't yet collapsed, it seemed in such a bad condition. For a second it ran through his mind that it was not a good idea taking a child into a building that might collapse any second, but he tried to calm himself. If it hasn't collapsed yet, it won't collapse right now.
"We'll be waiting for Bartimaeus here," he said once they reached the second floor. He put a blanket he'd brought from the car on the floor. He flopped down on it and removed his ridiculous glasses. "Come, sit down."
The child cocked her head, staring at him. "Mrs Dawson said we weren't supposed to sit down next to strangers, especially those who offer us candy."
"But I'm not offering you candy. And you've sat in my car already," Nathaniel reminded her. "I didn't harm you, did I?"
She shook her head. "Well… perhaps Mrs Dawson was wrong and not all strangers are bad… Er… Mr Deputy Prime Minister?"
"Yes?"
"What happened to Mrs Dawson? Miss Farrar took me away too quick and all I saw was that she collapsed… but she's healed, hasn't she? She's just been knocked out, right?"
As he looked into his daughter's eyes and saw the glimmer of hope in them, Nathaniel felt an invisible hand compressing his gullet. He didn't want to dash her hopes, but he didn't want to lie to her either. "I'm sorry, but… she's no longer with us."
Martha knitted her eyebrows. "She was taken to hospital then?"
Nathaniel bit into his lower lip. This was harder than he'd expected. "No, dear. She's dead."
"No." Martha shook her head, her long, wavy black hair flipping around her. "She can't be! She can't… Noooo…" Before she knew, she burst into tears.
Nathaniel didn't know what to do. He had never been close to a crying child. He had no idea how a mother or father was supposed to make their child stop sobbing. So he just acted on instinct. He got up from the blanket, walked to Martha and wrapped her in his arms. "Shhh… it's okay. She's… she's an angel now, in heaven, and she's looking down at you, taking care of you. She wouldn't want you to cry for her."
Martha looked up with tear-soaked face. "A…are you sure?"
"Yes, dear. I knew her to be like that."
She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Oh, really. I heard you shouting 'mother' to her. Was she really your mother?"
"Yes." Nathaniel pulled a tissue out of his pocket. He simply couldn't watch people wipe their noses on their sleeves. Not that he hadn't done the same as a child… "Here."
Martha took the tissue and blew her nose with trumpeting noises. "If… if she was your mum, then why didn't you ever visit her?"
Nathaniel heaved a sigh. He could have said 'for political reasons', 'to not wake suspicion' or 'to keep you safe', but he caught himself giving the simplest reply and the one closest to the truth. "Because I was a jerk."
Martha's eyes widened. "Really? Can a Deputy Prime Minister be a jerk?"
Nathaniel's mouth tucked into a small smile. "Yes, Martha, unfortunately he can."
The child gasped. "You know my name?"
Nathaniel's smile widened. "Of course I do. I gave it to you. I am your father."
"I bet you got that rubbish from Star Wars," Martha said with a frown.
The young man felt an urge to laugh. "No, but it's true." He sent her a grin. "Search your feelings. You know it be true."
She grinned back. "Bet your favourite character is Darth Vader. Mine is Princess Leia."
"Leia is Vader's daughter. You are mine."
"But… but how? I don't understand."
"You know, that tale about the stork… it's not true. You need a man and a woman who love each other to-"
"I know that," Martha said with a grimace. "I read it in a biology book. Behind Mrs Dawson's back, of course… she wouldn't have let me read anything of the sort… Wait… if Mrs Dawson was your mum and you're my dad, then was she my… grandma?"
"Yes, she was." Nathaniel put an arm around his daughter. "And she loved you so much that she sacrificed herself to save you."
The child's lips started to tremble again. "I don't want her to be dead!"
"I know, sweetie…" Nathaniel pulled her into a tighter embrace, "neither do I."
They sat back down and remained like that for minutes: Martha crying, Nathaniel absentmindedly stroking her hair, wondering what it would have been like to have her around for the past five years… to hug her, play with her, lull her into sleep… He'd missed out so much. And even if he managed to prove his innocence, he might lose her again. The magician society would never accept him with an heir. It was forbidden. But could he live without her anymore?
He shuddered at this thought. Heavens, what's happening to me? I have lived without her for five years and never missed her… oh well, perhaps sometimes… a bit.
"Mr Deput… I mean… Dad," Martha said, looking up, "who's my mum?"
As her deep blue eyes bored into his, and tears were rolling down her Kitty-like face, Nathaniel felt lost. No, he decided, he couldn't let her go, ever again. "Your mum… her name is Kitty. Kathleen for real, but everyone calls her Kitty."
"Is she nice?"
"Very nice. She's beautiful and clever, and fiery… you're a lot like her."
"And why isn't she here with us now? And why has she never come to see me? Or you? Why did I have to be in the orphanage when I wasn't an orphan?"
Nathaniel felt as though a rhino had suddenly sat on his chest. Of course, he had been expecting this question, and he intended to tell her some day, but… how could he explain such serious matters to a five-year-old? True, Martha had proved to be intelligent beyond her years, but she was still too young… she wouldn't understand. What wouldn't she understand? – a nasty voice spoke up in Nathaniel's mind. That you cared more for your position than for your family? That you felt ashamed of her existence and hid her from the world?
He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. "Your mum isn't here with us now, because she left me. And she had a good reason to leave me." Seeing the child's confusion, he took a deep breath. "I… I was really nasty to her. And I'm not a bit proud of it… I wish I could change it back, but… what happened is behind us. She left me, and I can understand her. To help you understand the situation… let's say that I was a bit like Darth Vader. I wanted power, and your mother didn't approve of it. Remember, Padme too disapproved when her husband started down the path to the Dark Side."
Martha nodded. "But you can't use the Force, can you?"
Nathaniel fought back a chuckle. "No, but I can use magic. We magicians are a bit like the Jedi… and a bit like the Sith. We resemble the Sith in one thing: we crave power and we can be ruthless. We have one thing in common with the Jedi: we aren't allowed to have children. When your mum told me she was expecting you, I was scared, Martha. I knew it was forbidden. And I knew I had to hide you."
"To protect me, like Obi-Wan hid Luke and Leia to protect them?"
Nathaniel bit into his lower lip and looked away, not being able to stand her stare. "Er… not exactly. You weren't in danger. I was. My career was. I hid you from the world to not lose my power and status, and this turned your mum against me… I can't blame her, really. And I can't blame you either if you're mad at me for this. I'm a bad father."
As he stared at the wooden floor, he felt a warm little something touch his hand. It was Martha's hand.
"It's okay, Daddy," the little girl said with a smile, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze. "Everyone makes mistakes. I too did. I put slugs into Isabel's bed. I know I shouldn't have… does that make me like a Sith?"
Nathaniel reached out with his spare hand and ruffled the child's hair. "No. You're too warm-hearted for that. You're my little Jedi."
"Can a Jedi kiss her daddy?"
"Well, it's unheard-of… but there's a first time for everything," Nathaniel said, bending down, offering his cheek to Martha. She gave him a smacking kiss, then pointed at her own cheek.
"Your turn, Daddy."
Nathaniel had never kissed a child before. Actually, the only people he remembered to have kissed were Jane and Kitty. And he'd usually kissed them on the lips. This 'innocent peck' was something new to him. But it felt nice.
"Uhhh, Daddy, you're pricking!" Martha wrinkled her nose.
"Sorry. I don't have my razor with me." Nathaniel said with an apologetic glance. "Maybe Bartimaeus will get me one."
"Get you what?" the djinni's voice called from the corridor.
Nathaniel hopped up from the blanket and hurried out to meet the djinni and the person he hoped was with Bartimaeus.
"Get you what?" the djinni repeated.
"A razor."
"Sorry, it never occurred to me to get you one… but I've got you some food." Bartimaeus pushed a baguette into Nathaniel's hand and entered the room with a sandwich for Martha.
As the djinni disappeared from the corridor, Nathaniel heard a wheezing breathing that meant someone was climbing the stairs. He let out a relieved sigh at the sight of his panting friend. "Ffoukes. Thanks for coming."
"John? What is this madness? And what happened to your hair?"
"My hair? Uh, tell you later."
"You didn't release those convicts, did you?"
"Of course not. I was occupied elsewhere when the fake-John set the Resistance free."
Foukes knitted his eyebrows. "Where did you hear about the whole thing then?"
"On the radio, in my car."
"What were you doing last night? Looking for Kitty?"
"No. Why?"
Ffoukes made a face. "Because you don't need to look for Kitty any longer. She's at the Whitehall."
Nathaniel's eyebrows ran high, disappearing behind his fringe. "What is she doing there?"
A small smile appeared on the older magician's face. "She went there to shout at Deveraux and everyone that they were idiots if they thought you did it. She might have left you, but she still loves you, that much is clear. Problem is that Deveraux is holding her captive there now and is planning to lure you to Whitehall, using her. He was going to announce Kitty's night time visit at the Palace on the morning and the midday news, hoping you'd hear and go there just to see her, because…" he made a grimace, "forgive me to say this, but everyone in the government thinks your losing your wife made you go crazy…"
"Yeah, I've heard," Nathaniel sighed. "But I can assure you I'm in perfect mental health. I love Kitty, but I wouldn't do anything crazy for her. And I'm not going to Whitehall. I want to catch the real culprit first, and for that, I need your help."
"What can I do for you, John?"
"Ffoukes, do you remember when almost six years ago, I told you that Kitty was having lung problems and had to spend a few months in the country?"
"Yes."
"Well…" Nathaniel ran a hand through his now much shorter locks, "I lied. Kitty wasn't ill, but…" He began walking towards the door that led into the room in which Martha was now having breakfast. "Kitty and I… we… sort of… had an accident." He beckoned to his friend to the open door. The little girl stood next to Bartimaeus and waved at him, her face smeared with ketchup. "Ffoukes, this is my daughter."
"Your… what?"
Nathaniel walked up to Martha and put a hand on her shoulder. "My daughter."
"And my apprentice," a cold female voice spoke up from behind the shocked Ffoukes.
Nathaniel froze. In the doorway, right behind the magician, stood Jane Farrar, looking livid, the fire of madness blazing in her eyes. With hands that were covered with dozens of nasty cuts, she held a gun to Ffoukes's nape. "If you move," she hissed to her one-time lover, "your friend dies, Nathaniel."
o o o O O O o o o
A/N: er… review, please? ;)