"Whoa, whoa, WHOA! I did not see that coming. Did you, Mike?"
"I surely didn't, Ike."
"I mean, I think I can speak for everyone watching this throughout Panam that that little girl was toast. Didn't you think so, Mike?"
"The odds were really stacked against her, that's for sure. Twenty eight to three last I checked. There must be a few very happy gamblers right now, mustn't there, Ike?"
"You said it, Mike. To see that great finned afrit pounce down on them like that! Why, it must be a level twelve at the least, mustn't it, Mike?"
"At the very least, Ike."
"And then to see a stunt like that! It nearly made me wet my pants, didn't it, Mike?"
"I wouldn't know, Ike."
"But surely, Mike, if you just watch that last part back on instant replay- there... right there, you see where the spirit cocooned the girl at the last second. Now I'm no judge, but I say that had to hurt, didn't it, Mike?"
"It surely did, Ike."
"And that's what I love about these games, Mike. These last second turnarounds, the dark horses, the sudden deaths,"
"Makes for damn fine television, doesn't it, Ike?"
"You said it, Mike. Especially those sudden deaths."
"And we're getting plenty of those, Ike. Only eleven hours into the games and already we have one third of the contestants out of the running. Has there ever been a record like that, Ike?"
"I believe so, Mike. Seven years ago when that boy from District Four conjured that suicidal marid-"
"I remember that, Ike. The horror was still plastered on their young faces even as they were buried. Now that was a game to remember, wasn't it, Ike?"
"It sure was, Mike. And this game is quickly becoming one for the scrapbooks. Little Abigail, or the 'Little Mockingjay' as they're now calling her, is flying over the eastern end of field but doesn't see those other guys circling around each side on her flanks. Just zoom in there on camera five for a moment and you'll see- WOW! What has that lad conjured? And what has it done to his face?"
"Evidently some trouble in the conjuring process. Doesn't look as pretty as he once did, does he, Ike?"
"He sure doesn't, Mike. Things are certainly bubbling up nicely and getting interesting, so stay tuned to your tellies one and all. You are watching Ike and Mike - Live coverage of the fifteenth annual Hunter Games! Isn't that right, Mike?"
"It sure is, Ike."
BARTIMAEUS
Thinking back now, counting this new girl, 'Abby', or whatever her real name was, I have had a total of six prepubescent masters. This is unusually high for a djinn seeing as how most parents want to keep their kids alive. I can only imagine that throughout the ages my reputation as a huggable and most adorable teddy bear spread and festered.
(It's probably loosely based on the rumor that I once had to spend six months trapped in a nursery in the form of a plush bear. It really isn't as interesting as it sounds.)
"Alright, let me see if I've got this straight." I cleared my throat and the noise echoed off the barren walls and worn out seats. We had taken refuge in what once was a tidy little movie theater. Now it was dark and musty and covered in powdered plaster and cobwebs. (In addition, the only movie that would work was Plan 9 From Outer Space so all in all it was a complete bust.) I had taken the form of Ptolemy and was peppering the girl with very important questions. (Question number one: What exactly happened to the wall of Jericho?")
The wretched girl had curled up in a torn and moldy chair and stared fixedly at a greenish locket around her neck. At the sound of my voice she tore her gaze away from her ruddy locket and looked at me expectantly. "What did you say?"
"I said to tell me if I have this right. First off: Magicians used to rule this world and it was 'a time marked by wanton barbarity and hellish bedevilment'. Did I get that quote right?"
The girl shrugged in a tired sort of way. "That's what it said in our school textbooks."
"And a fine textbook it's sounding out to be. A bit wordy and pretentious but I get the basic idea. Magicians: Bad."
"Oh, we magicians are much worse than 'bad'," the girl spat, a hot sarcasm rising in her voice. "We magicians are vile, evil, scum-like, animalistic sub-humans not fit to walk upright upon the face of an unholy dung heap."
"I'm sensing some self-esteem issues here." The girl subsided back into cool sullenness. "Okay, so I take it the magicians are no longer in power. But don't feel so bad about it. Take it from me, I've been around for a while, and I tell you that magicians are not vile, evil, scum-like and animalistic."
"No?"
"Of course not! It's not just magicians. All humans are vile, evil, scum-like and animalistic."
"Gee, thanks."
"And it goes without saying that you are all fit to walk upright upon the face of any sort of dung heap, holy or unholy."
"Baritmaeus, you can stop cheering me up now."
(She was obviously feeling much better. I have a way of putting things in perspective.)
"Okay, but all that still doesn't explain why I'm trapped in a debacled, ruined city with a giant dome over it, summoned by a bitsy girl who's being chased by other bitsy magicians. And why in flaming tarturaus are there a dozen imps flying around with video cameras?"
They were getting particularly annoying, especially as they seemed to favor filming my right side when my left is so much more photogenic. They completely ignored me when I politely asked them to shift left-wise so I had to gently chide them until they fell into line. (F.Y.I. There were two dozen imps originally.)
The girl shook her head causing her black straggly hair to whip around. "No more questions until I get something to eat."
"Good idea. I'm starving. What are we having?"
"You? You just had a dozen imps."
"That's right. And all that eating sure builds up an appetite."
"That doesn't even make sense. Anyways, you're supposed to get me something to eat."
"Oh, yea? Says who?"
"I summoned you. I'm your master."
"We're not in the pentacle right now so your not in a position to be giving new orders."
"Then what about the old orders? You're supposed to protect me."
"What of it?"
She pursed her lips and thought a moment. "Did you know that they originally called this whole tournament the Hunger Games instead of the Hunter Games? That's because most of the kids would die from starvation as apposed to bloody carnage. That means I'm in grave danger of starvation and you have to protect me from it."
I opened my mouth to respond and couldn't find any words to fill it with. (That's one thing you can count on with magicians. No matter the age no matter the universe they know how to play with semantics. (The ones who don't learn magic become lawyers.))
I made my way to the dingy concession area and rustled up some popcorn with about eight inches of dust crusting it and then I managed to squeeze some sort of liquid out of an old mop. (Perfect. The wee lass was out of 'danger'.)
When I walked back into the viewing room I saw in the dim light that she had gone back to staring at her locket. Moving stealthily I crept closer and peeped over her shoulder. "Who is that?" I asked.
She gasped in surprise, snapped the locket closed instantly and glared at me. "It's no one! No one! Do you hear me, Demon?"
"That woman looks a lot like you, you know. Very pretty. She your mum?" (I personally never had a mother but I do consider myself an expert on the subject of mothers. People and spirits have told me I'm the motherly type. It makes sense since I really do love children. Especially with some relish and sauerkraut.)
She ignored my probing queries and eyed my prizes. "Oh, good, you found some food. What are these? Chocolate covered popcorn?"
"Yes,"
She reached for a handful and paused in the action. She stood stock-still like a wary animal and her eyes widened with fear. "Bartimaeus, did you hear that?" she whispered.
I pricked my ears and was greeted by a heavy, sullen silence. And then I heard it. A soft creaking. The light sound of metal scraping against metal. At the far end of the theater a door handle jiggled.
"Someone's trying to get in!" she gasped.
"Yea," I said, "but don't worry. I locked it."
At that moment the metal was hit by a thundering detonation and door and lock disintegrated utterly. (They sure don't make locks like they used to.) Standing in the doorway was a mass of horns, taught tendons and fiery tails all held together with shimmering scales and glistening claws. (There's no need to be overly impressed by this whole ensemble. He was an idiot I had know in Jerusalem named Beyzer.)
He scanned the room with his twelve beady eyes and grinned widely when he noticed me. "Bartimaeus!" he roared. "At last, fortune smiles upon me, for I shall finally be able to avenge myself by destroying you!"
"Hey, Beyzer," I said lightly. "You're not still mad about that little incident over in Mesopotamia, are you?"
"Razgush!" he yelled out angrily. (I gasped and covered Abbie's ears. (There was never any call for bad language.)) "You left me corked in a bakshish bottle. I was trapped for three hundred years!"
"Fair point. But I left you facing the local circus group so you wouldn't get bored."
"Ever so kind of you. I'll have to return the favor."
From behind Beyzer a young, tan skinned boy scampered up. He looked about thirteen, maybe fourteen. It was hard to tell when mushroom and fungi were growing over most of his face. He took in the situation and cried out in triumph. "Aha! We 'ave found de leetle mockingchay!"
"Clarence," Abbie said with some shock. "What on earth happened to your face?"
"Evidently someone had some trouble in the conjuring process," I whispered.
The boy blanched. Maybe. (Honestly, who can tell?) "Joo should be more worried aboud jour own face, missy!
"I though you had died in the first ten minutes."
The boy laughed. "Joo weel find dat I em mush 'arder to keel dan most. Well den, what are joo waitaing for, slave? Keel dem! Keel dem!"
"With pleasure," Beyzer snarled and with his eyes flaring and fangs outstretched he launched himself through the smoking doorway.
Beyzer is actually a character in The Ring of Solomon. Just thought I'd throw that out there.
