Read Online Bartimaeus: The Golem’s Eye by Jonathan Stroud - Free Book Online
Authors: Jonathan Stroud
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side of the lake toward them with surprising haste. Kitty and Jakob had only just made good their escape.
But usually, when they looked across the railway line, the forbidden side of the park was empty. It was a shame to let it go to waste, especially on such a delightful day when all magicians would be at work. Kitty and Jakob made their way there at good speed.
Their heels drummed on the tarmac surface of the metal bridge.
“No one about,” Jakob said. “Told you.”
“Is that someone?” Kitty shielded her eyes and peered out toward a circle of beeches, partly obscured by the bright sun. “By that tree? I can’t quite make it out.”
“Where? No…. It’s just shadows. If you’re chicken, we’ll go over by that wall. It’ll hide us from the houses across the road.”
He ran across the path and on to the thick green grass, bouncing the ball skillfully on the flat surface of the bat as he went. Kitty followed with more caution. A high brick wall bounded the opposite side of the park; beyond it lay the broad avenue, studded with magicians’ mansions. It was true that the center of the grass was uncomfortably exposed, overlooked by the black windows of the houses’ upper stories; it was also true that if they hugged close to the wall it would shield them from this view. But this meant crossing the whole breadth of the park, far from the metal bridge, which Kitty thought unwise. But it was a lovely day and there was no one about, and she let herself run after Jakob, feeling the breeze drift against her limbs, enjoying the expanse of blue sky.
Jakob came to a halt a few meters from the wall beside a silvered drinking fountain. He tossed the ball into the air and thwacked it straight up to an almighty height. “Here’ll do,” he said, as he waited for the ball to return. “This is the stumps. I’m in bat.”
“You promised me!”
“Whose bat is it? Whose ball?”
Despite Kitty’s protests, natural law prevailed, and Jakob took up position in front of the drinking fountain. Kitty walked a little way off, rubbing the ball against her shorts in the way that bowlers did. She turned and looked toward Jakob with narrow, appraising eyes. He tapped the bat against the grass, grinned inanely, and wiggled his bottom in an insulting manner.
Kitty began the run-up. Slowly at first, then building up pace, ball cupped in hand. Jakob tapped the ground.
Kitty swung her arm up and over and loosed the delivery at demonic speed. It bounced against the tarmac of the path, shot up toward the drinking fountain.
Jakob swung the bat. Made perfect contact. The ball disappeared over Kitty’s head, high, high into the air, so that it became nothing but a dot against the sky … and finally fell to earth halfway back across the park.
Jakob did a dance of triumph. Kitty considered him grimly. With a heavy, heartfelt sigh, she began the long trudge to retrieve the ball.
Ten minutes later, Kitty had bowled five balls and made five excursions to the other side of the park. The sun beat down. She was hot, sweaty, and irate. Returning at last with dragging steps, she pointedly tossed the ball on the grass and flopped herself down after it.
“Bit knackered?” Jakob asked considerately. “You almost got the last one.”
A sarcastic grunt was the only reply He proffered the bat. “Your go, then.”
“In a minute.” For a time, they sat in silence watching the leaves moving on the trees, listening to the sound of occasional cars from beyond the wall. A large flock of crows flew raucously across the park and settled in a distant oak.
“Good job my grandmama’s not here,” Jakob observed. “She wouldn’t like that.”
“What?”
“Those crows.”
“Why not?” Kitty had always been a little scared of Jakob’s grandmama, a tiny, wizened creature with little black eyes in an impossibly wrinkled face. She never left her chair in the warm spot of the kitchen, and smelled heavily of paprika and pickled cabbage. Jakob
But usually, when they looked across the railway line, the forbidden side of the park was empty. It was a shame to let it go to waste, especially on such a delightful day when all magicians would be at work. Kitty and Jakob made their way there at good speed.
Their heels drummed on the tarmac surface of the metal bridge.
“No one about,” Jakob said. “Told you.”
“Is that someone?” Kitty shielded her eyes and peered out toward a circle of beeches, partly obscured by the bright sun. “By that tree? I can’t quite make it out.”
“Where? No…. It’s just shadows. If you’re chicken, we’ll go over by that wall. It’ll hide us from the houses across the road.”
He ran across the path and on to the thick green grass, bouncing the ball skillfully on the flat surface of the bat as he went. Kitty followed with more caution. A high brick wall bounded the opposite side of the park; beyond it lay the broad avenue, studded with magicians’ mansions. It was true that the center of the grass was uncomfortably exposed, overlooked by the black windows of the houses’ upper stories; it was also true that if they hugged close to the wall it would shield them from this view. But this meant crossing the whole breadth of the park, far from the metal bridge, which Kitty thought unwise. But it was a lovely day and there was no one about, and she let herself run after Jakob, feeling the breeze drift against her limbs, enjoying the expanse of blue sky.
Jakob came to a halt a few meters from the wall beside a silvered drinking fountain. He tossed the ball into the air and thwacked it straight up to an almighty height. “Here’ll do,” he said, as he waited for the ball to return. “This is the stumps. I’m in bat.”
“You promised me!”
“Whose bat is it? Whose ball?”
Despite Kitty’s protests, natural law prevailed, and Jakob took up position in front of the drinking fountain. Kitty walked a little way off, rubbing the ball against her shorts in the way that bowlers did. She turned and looked toward Jakob with narrow, appraising eyes. He tapped the bat against the grass, grinned inanely, and wiggled his bottom in an insulting manner.
Kitty began the run-up. Slowly at first, then building up pace, ball cupped in hand. Jakob tapped the ground.
Kitty swung her arm up and over and loosed the delivery at demonic speed. It bounced against the tarmac of the path, shot up toward the drinking fountain.
Jakob swung the bat. Made perfect contact. The ball disappeared over Kitty’s head, high, high into the air, so that it became nothing but a dot against the sky … and finally fell to earth halfway back across the park.
Jakob did a dance of triumph. Kitty considered him grimly. With a heavy, heartfelt sigh, she began the long trudge to retrieve the ball.
Ten minutes later, Kitty had bowled five balls and made five excursions to the other side of the park. The sun beat down. She was hot, sweaty, and irate. Returning at last with dragging steps, she pointedly tossed the ball on the grass and flopped herself down after it.
“Bit knackered?” Jakob asked considerately. “You almost got the last one.”
A sarcastic grunt was the only reply He proffered the bat. “Your go, then.”
“In a minute.” For a time, they sat in silence watching the leaves moving on the trees, listening to the sound of occasional cars from beyond the wall. A large flock of crows flew raucously across the park and settled in a distant oak.
“Good job my grandmama’s not here,” Jakob observed. “She wouldn’t like that.”
“What?”
“Those crows.”
“Why not?” Kitty had always been a little scared of Jakob’s grandmama, a tiny, wizened creature with little black eyes in an impossibly wrinkled face. She never left her chair in the warm spot of the kitchen, and smelled heavily of paprika and pickled cabbage. Jakob
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