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Authors: Jonathan Stroud
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grinned at us. ‘Hello, lads.’
‘This is the foliot Gezeri,’ our master said. ‘He is my eyes and ears. When I am not present on the building site, he will inform me of any slackness or deviation from my commands.’
The foliot’s grin widened. ‘They won’t be no trouble, Khaba. Sweet-natured as lambs, the lot of them.’ Sticking a fattoed foot down below its cloud, it kicked once, propelling the cloud a short way through the air. ‘Thing is, they know what’s good for them, you can see that.’
‘I hope so.’ Khaba made an impatient gesture. ‘Time passes! You must get on with your work. Clear the brushwood and level the hilltop! You know the terms of your summoning: adhere to them always. I want discipline, I want efficiency, I want silent dedication. No backchat, arguments or distractions. Divide yourselves into four work-teams. I shall bring the temple plan out to you presently. That is all.’
And with that he spun upon his heel and began to walk away, the picture of arrogant indifference. Kicking an indolent leg, the foliot guided its cloud after him, making a series of rude faces over its shoulder as it did so.
And
still
, despite all the provocation, none of us said anything. At my side I heard Faquarl give a kind of strangled snarl under his breath, as if he longed to speak out, but the rest of my fellow slaves were utterly tongue-tied, afraid of retribution.
But you know me. I’m Bartimaeus:
I
don’t do tongue-tied 23 . I coughed loudly and put up my hand.
Gezeri spun round; the magician, Khaba, turned more slowly. ‘Well?’
‘Bartimaeus of Uruk again, Master. I have a complaint.’
The magician blinked his big wet eyes. ‘A complaint?’
‘That’s right. You’re not deaf then, which must be a relief, what with all your other physical problems. It’s my work partners, I’m afraid. They’re not up to scratch.’
‘Not … up to scratch?’
‘Yes. Do try to keep up. Not all of them, mind. I’ve got nothing against …’ I turned to the djinni on my left, a fresh-faced youth with a single stubby brow-horn. ‘Sorry, what was your name?’
‘Menes.’
‘Young Menes. I’m sure he’s a worthy fellow. And that fat one with the hooves over there might be a good worker too, for all I know; he’s certainly packing enough essence. But some of the others … If we’re cooped up here for months on a big job … Well, the long and the short of it is, we just won’t gel. We’ll fight, argue, bicker … Take Faquarl here. Impossible to work with! Always ends in tears.’
Faquarl gave a lazy chuckle, showing his gleaming fangs. ‘Ye-e-es … I should point out, Master, that Bartimaeus is an appalling fantasist. You can’t believe a word he says.’
‘Exactly,’ the hoofed slave put in. ‘He called me fat.’
The bat-eared djinni snorted. ‘You
are
fat.’
‘Shut up, Chosroes.’
‘
You
shut up, Beyzer.’
‘See?’ I made a regretful gesture. ‘Bickering. Before you know it we’ll be at each other’s throats. Best thing would be to dismiss us all, with the notable exception of Faquarl, who, despite his deficient personality, is very good with a chisel. He will be a fine and loyal servant for you and work hard enough for eight.’
At this the magician opened his mouth to speak, but was pre-empted by a somewhat forced laugh from the pot-bellied Nubian, who stepped smoothly forward.
‘On the contrary,’ he urged, ‘
Bartimaeus
is the one you should keep. As you can see, he’s as vigorous as a marid. He is also famed for his achievements in construction, some of which resound in fable to this day.’
I scowled. ‘They don’t at all. I’m hopeless.’
‘Such modesty is typical of him,’ Faquarl smiled. ‘His only drawback is an inability to work with other djinn, who are usually dismissed when he is summoned. But – to his abilities. Surely even in this backwater you will have heard of the Great Flooding of the Euphrates? Well, then. The instigator
‘This is the foliot Gezeri,’ our master said. ‘He is my eyes and ears. When I am not present on the building site, he will inform me of any slackness or deviation from my commands.’
The foliot’s grin widened. ‘They won’t be no trouble, Khaba. Sweet-natured as lambs, the lot of them.’ Sticking a fattoed foot down below its cloud, it kicked once, propelling the cloud a short way through the air. ‘Thing is, they know what’s good for them, you can see that.’
‘I hope so.’ Khaba made an impatient gesture. ‘Time passes! You must get on with your work. Clear the brushwood and level the hilltop! You know the terms of your summoning: adhere to them always. I want discipline, I want efficiency, I want silent dedication. No backchat, arguments or distractions. Divide yourselves into four work-teams. I shall bring the temple plan out to you presently. That is all.’
And with that he spun upon his heel and began to walk away, the picture of arrogant indifference. Kicking an indolent leg, the foliot guided its cloud after him, making a series of rude faces over its shoulder as it did so.
And
still
, despite all the provocation, none of us said anything. At my side I heard Faquarl give a kind of strangled snarl under his breath, as if he longed to speak out, but the rest of my fellow slaves were utterly tongue-tied, afraid of retribution.
But you know me. I’m Bartimaeus:
I
don’t do tongue-tied 23 . I coughed loudly and put up my hand.
Gezeri spun round; the magician, Khaba, turned more slowly. ‘Well?’
‘Bartimaeus of Uruk again, Master. I have a complaint.’
The magician blinked his big wet eyes. ‘A complaint?’
‘That’s right. You’re not deaf then, which must be a relief, what with all your other physical problems. It’s my work partners, I’m afraid. They’re not up to scratch.’
‘Not … up to scratch?’
‘Yes. Do try to keep up. Not all of them, mind. I’ve got nothing against …’ I turned to the djinni on my left, a fresh-faced youth with a single stubby brow-horn. ‘Sorry, what was your name?’
‘Menes.’
‘Young Menes. I’m sure he’s a worthy fellow. And that fat one with the hooves over there might be a good worker too, for all I know; he’s certainly packing enough essence. But some of the others … If we’re cooped up here for months on a big job … Well, the long and the short of it is, we just won’t gel. We’ll fight, argue, bicker … Take Faquarl here. Impossible to work with! Always ends in tears.’
Faquarl gave a lazy chuckle, showing his gleaming fangs. ‘Ye-e-es … I should point out, Master, that Bartimaeus is an appalling fantasist. You can’t believe a word he says.’
‘Exactly,’ the hoofed slave put in. ‘He called me fat.’
The bat-eared djinni snorted. ‘You
are
fat.’
‘Shut up, Chosroes.’
‘
You
shut up, Beyzer.’
‘See?’ I made a regretful gesture. ‘Bickering. Before you know it we’ll be at each other’s throats. Best thing would be to dismiss us all, with the notable exception of Faquarl, who, despite his deficient personality, is very good with a chisel. He will be a fine and loyal servant for you and work hard enough for eight.’
At this the magician opened his mouth to speak, but was pre-empted by a somewhat forced laugh from the pot-bellied Nubian, who stepped smoothly forward.
‘On the contrary,’ he urged, ‘
Bartimaeus
is the one you should keep. As you can see, he’s as vigorous as a marid. He is also famed for his achievements in construction, some of which resound in fable to this day.’
I scowled. ‘They don’t at all. I’m hopeless.’
‘Such modesty is typical of him,’ Faquarl smiled. ‘His only drawback is an inability to work with other djinn, who are usually dismissed when he is summoned. But – to his abilities. Surely even in this backwater you will have heard of the Great Flooding of the Euphrates? Well, then. The instigator
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