requests results in double-quick time. Her words, sir.”
“I see. Does the imp’s condition suggest any pestilence or poison remaining in the next shop?”
“No sir. He is as limber as a ferret, and twice as evil. There is no danger.”
“Very well. Thank you, Ffoukes.”
As Ffoukes moved off, he spoke sidelong to Nathaniel. “You’re going to have to work overtime on this one, Mandrake. The P.M.’s not at all happy, from what I hear.” He grinned, departed; the rattle of the imp’s cage faded slowly into the distance.
Stony-faced, Nathaniel swept his hair back behind one ear, and turned to follow Tallow, who was picking his way among the rubble of the room. “Mandrake, we will inspect the remains of the police officers. Have you eaten breakfast?”
“No, sir.”
“Just as well. We must go next door, to Coot’s Delicatessen.” He sighed. “I used to get good caviar there.”
They came to the partition wall leading to the next establishment. It had been staved clean through. Here, the minister paused.
“Now, Mandrake,” he said. “Use that brain of yours that we’ve heard so much about, and tell me what you deduce from this hole.”
Despite himself, Nathaniel enjoyed tests such as this. He adjusted his cuffs and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It gives us some idea of the perpetrator’s size and shape,” he began. “The ceiling’s thirteen feet high here, but the hole’s only ten feet tall: so whatever made it is unlikely to be larger than that. Breadth of hole three and a half feet, so judging by the relative dimensions of height and width, I’d say it could be man-shaped, although obviously much bigger. But more interesting than that is the way the hole was made—” He broke off, rubbing his chin in what he hoped was a clever, mulling sort of way.
“Obvious enough so far. Go on.”
Nathaniel did not believe Mr. Tallow had already made such calculations. “Well sir, if the enemy had used a Detonation or some similar explosive magic, the bricks in the way would have been vaporized, or shattered into small fragments. Yet here they are, snapped and broken at the edges certainly, but many of them still mortared together in solid chunks. I’d say whatever broke in here simply pushed its way through, sir, swiped the wall aside as if it didn’t exist.”
He waited, but the minister just nodded, as if with unutterable boredom. “So …?”
“So , sir …”The boy gritted his teeth; he knew he was being made to do his leader’s thinking for him, and resented it with a passion. “So … that makes an afrit or marid less likely. They’d blast their way through. It’s not a conventional demon we’re dealing with.” That was it; Tallow wasn’t getting a word more out of him.
But the minister seemed satisfied for the moment. “My thoughts exactly, Mandrake, my thoughts exactly. Well, well, so many questions…. And over here is another.” He levered himself up and over the space in the wall into the next shop. Glowering, the boy followed. Julius Tallow was a fool. He appeared complacent, but like a weak swimmer out of his depth, his legs were kicking frantically under the surface, trying to keep him afloat. Whatever happened, Nathaniel did not intend to sink with him.
The air in Coot’s Delicatessen carried a strong taint, sharp and unpleasant. Nathaniel reached into his breast pocket for his voluminous colored handkerchief and held it under his nose. He stepped gingerly into the dim interior. Vats of olives and pickled anchovies had been broached and the contents spilled; their smell combined nastily with something denser, more acidic. A trace of burning. Nathaniel’s eyes stung a little. He coughed into his handkerchief.
“So here they are: Duvall’s best men.” Tallow’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Six conical piles of jet-black ash and bones were dotted here and there across the shop floor. In the nearest, a couple of sharp canine teeth were clearly visible; also the
“I see. Does the imp’s condition suggest any pestilence or poison remaining in the next shop?”
“No sir. He is as limber as a ferret, and twice as evil. There is no danger.”
“Very well. Thank you, Ffoukes.”
As Ffoukes moved off, he spoke sidelong to Nathaniel. “You’re going to have to work overtime on this one, Mandrake. The P.M.’s not at all happy, from what I hear.” He grinned, departed; the rattle of the imp’s cage faded slowly into the distance.
Stony-faced, Nathaniel swept his hair back behind one ear, and turned to follow Tallow, who was picking his way among the rubble of the room. “Mandrake, we will inspect the remains of the police officers. Have you eaten breakfast?”
“No, sir.”
“Just as well. We must go next door, to Coot’s Delicatessen.” He sighed. “I used to get good caviar there.”
They came to the partition wall leading to the next establishment. It had been staved clean through. Here, the minister paused.
“Now, Mandrake,” he said. “Use that brain of yours that we’ve heard so much about, and tell me what you deduce from this hole.”
Despite himself, Nathaniel enjoyed tests such as this. He adjusted his cuffs and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It gives us some idea of the perpetrator’s size and shape,” he began. “The ceiling’s thirteen feet high here, but the hole’s only ten feet tall: so whatever made it is unlikely to be larger than that. Breadth of hole three and a half feet, so judging by the relative dimensions of height and width, I’d say it could be man-shaped, although obviously much bigger. But more interesting than that is the way the hole was made—” He broke off, rubbing his chin in what he hoped was a clever, mulling sort of way.
“Obvious enough so far. Go on.”
Nathaniel did not believe Mr. Tallow had already made such calculations. “Well sir, if the enemy had used a Detonation or some similar explosive magic, the bricks in the way would have been vaporized, or shattered into small fragments. Yet here they are, snapped and broken at the edges certainly, but many of them still mortared together in solid chunks. I’d say whatever broke in here simply pushed its way through, sir, swiped the wall aside as if it didn’t exist.”
He waited, but the minister just nodded, as if with unutterable boredom. “So …?”
“So , sir …”The boy gritted his teeth; he knew he was being made to do his leader’s thinking for him, and resented it with a passion. “So … that makes an afrit or marid less likely. They’d blast their way through. It’s not a conventional demon we’re dealing with.” That was it; Tallow wasn’t getting a word more out of him.
But the minister seemed satisfied for the moment. “My thoughts exactly, Mandrake, my thoughts exactly. Well, well, so many questions…. And over here is another.” He levered himself up and over the space in the wall into the next shop. Glowering, the boy followed. Julius Tallow was a fool. He appeared complacent, but like a weak swimmer out of his depth, his legs were kicking frantically under the surface, trying to keep him afloat. Whatever happened, Nathaniel did not intend to sink with him.
The air in Coot’s Delicatessen carried a strong taint, sharp and unpleasant. Nathaniel reached into his breast pocket for his voluminous colored handkerchief and held it under his nose. He stepped gingerly into the dim interior. Vats of olives and pickled anchovies had been broached and the contents spilled; their smell combined nastily with something denser, more acidic. A trace of burning. Nathaniel’s eyes stung a little. He coughed into his handkerchief.
“So here they are: Duvall’s best men.” Tallow’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
Six conical piles of jet-black ash and bones were dotted here and there across the shop floor. In the nearest, a couple of sharp canine teeth were clearly visible; also the
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