Read Online The Golem's Eye by Jonathan Stroud - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jonathan Stroud
Ads: Link
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 claimed she was a 102 years old.
He flicked a beetle off a grass stalk. "She'd reckon they Were spirits. Servants of the magicians. That's one of their preferred forms, according to her. It's all stuff she learned from her mum, who came over from Prague. She hates windows being left open at night, no matter how hot it gets." He put on an aged, quivering voice." 'Close it up, boy! It lets the demons in.' She's full of things like that."
Kitty frowned. "You don't believe in demons, then?"
"Of course I do! How else d'you think the magicians get their power? It's all in the spell books they send over to get bound or printed. That's what magic is all about. The magicians sell their souls and the demons help them in return—if they get the spells right. If they don't, the demons kill 'em dead. Who'd be a magician? I wouldn't, for all their jewels."
For a few minutes, Kitty lay silently on her back, watching the clouds. A thought occurred to her. "So, let me get this right..." she began. "If your dad, and his dad before him, have always worked on spell books for magicians, they must have read a lot of the spells, right? So that means—"
"I can see where you're going with this. Yeah, they must have seen stuff, enough to know to keep well clear of it, anyway. But a lot of it's written in weird languages, and you need more than just the words; I think there are things to draw, and potions and all sorts of horrid extras to learn, if you're going to master demons. It's not something anybody decent wants to be part of; my dad just keeps his head down and makes the books." He sighed. "Mind you, people have always assumed my family is in on it all. After the magicians fell from power in Prague, one of my grandpapa's uncles was chased by a mob and thrown from a high window. Landed on a roof and died. Grandpapa came to England soon after and started the business again. It was safer for him here. Anyway..." He sat up, stretched. "Whether those crows are demons, I very much doubt. What would they be doing sitting in a tree? Come on—" He tossed her the bat. "Your turn, and I bet I get you out first ball."
To Kitty's vast frustration, this was exactly what he did. And the next time, and the next. The park rang with the metallic bong of cricket ball on drinking fountain. Jakob's whoops resounded high
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 claimed she was a 102 years old.
He flicked a beetle off a grass stalk. "She'd reckon they Were spirits. Servants of the magicians. That's one of their preferred forms, according to her. It's all stuff she learned from her mum, who came over from Prague. She hates windows being left open at night, no matter how hot it gets." He put on an aged, quivering voice." 'Close it up, boy! It lets the demons in.' She's full of things like that."
Kitty frowned. "You don't believe in demons, then?"
"Of course I do! How else d'you think the magicians get their power? It's all in the spell books they send over to get bound or printed. That's what magic is all about. The magicians sell their souls and the demons help them in return—if they get the spells right. If they don't, the demons kill 'em dead. Who'd be a magician? I wouldn't, for all their jewels."
For a few minutes, Kitty lay silently on her back, watching the clouds. A thought occurred to her. "So, let me get this right..." she began. "If your dad, and his dad before him, have always worked on spell books for magicians, they must have read a lot of the spells, right? So that means—"
"I can see where you're going with this. Yeah, they must have seen stuff, enough to know to keep well clear of it, anyway. But a lot of it's written in weird languages, and you need more than just the words; I think there are things to draw, and potions and all sorts of horrid extras to learn, if you're going to master demons. It's not something anybody decent wants to be part of; my dad just keeps his head down and makes the books." He sighed. "Mind you, people have always assumed my family is in on it all. After the magicians fell from power in Prague, one of my grandpapa's uncles was chased by a mob and thrown from a high window. Landed on a roof and died. Grandpapa came to England soon after and started the business again. It was safer for him here. Anyway..." He sat up, stretched. "Whether those crows are demons, I very much doubt. What would they be doing sitting in a tree? Come on—" He tossed her the bat. "Your turn, and I bet I get you out first ball."
To Kitty's vast frustration, this was exactly what he did. And the next time, and the next. The park rang with the metallic bong of cricket ball on drinking fountain. Jakob's whoops resounded high
Similar Books
