The Amulet of Samarkand
02/10/06 07:41:30
"I'd like to go out for a bit, Mrs. Underwood," he said. "I need some fresh air." She looked at him blankly. "But you can't, dear, can you? Not before your Naming. Your master wants you in the library in an hour. And don't forget the Nominative Almanac, he says. Though having said that, you do look rather peaky. Fresh air would do you good, I suppose.... I'm sure he won't notice if you nip out for five minutes." "It's all right, Mrs. Underwood. I'll stay in." Five minutes? He needed two hours, maybe more. He would have to dispose of the tin later, and hope Bartimaeus didn't try anything beforehand. She poured a cup of tea and plonked it on the table before him. "That'll put color in your cheeks. It's a big day for you, Nathaniel. When I see you again, you'll be someone else. This will probably be the last time I call you by your old name. I suppose I shall have to start forgetting it now." Why couldn't you have started forgetting it this morning? he thought. A small, malicious part of him wished to blame her for her careless affection, but he knew that this was totally unjust. It was his fault the demon had been on hand to hear her. Safe, secret, strong. He was none of these things now. He took a gulp of tea and burned his mouth.
"Come in, boy, come in." His master, seated in a tall upright chair beside the library desk, seemed almost genial. He eyed Nathaniel as he approached and indicated a stool beside him. "Sit, sit. Well, you're looking smarter than usual. Even wearing a jacket, eh? I'm pleased to see that you register the importance of the occasion." "Yes, sir." "Right. Where's the Almanac? Good, let's have it...." The book was bound in shiny green leather, with an ox-hair ribbon bookmark. It had been delivered by Jaroslav's only the day before and had not yet been read. Mr. Underwood opened the cover delicately and glanced at the tide page. "Loew's Nominative Almanac, three hundred ninety-fifth edition... How time flies. I chose my name from the three hundred fiftieth, would you believe? I remember it as if it were yesterday." "Yes, sir." Nathaniel stifled a yawn. His exertions of the morning were catching up with him, but he had to concentrate on the task in hand. He watched as his master flipped the pages, talking all the while. "The Almanac, boy, lists all official names used by magicians between Prague's golden age and the present. Many have been used more than once. Beside each is a register that indicates whether the name is currently being occupied. If not, the name is free to be taken. Or you can invent one of your own. See here—'Underwood, Arthur; London'... I am the second of that name, boy. The first was a prominent Jacobean; a close associate of King James the first, I believe. Now, I have been giving the matter some consideration, and I think you would do well to follow in the footsteps of one of the great magicians." "Yes, sir." "I thought Theophilus Throckmorton, perhaps—he was a notable alchemist. And... yes, I see that combination is free. No? That doesn't appeal? What about Balthazar Jones? You're not convinced? Well, perhaps he is a hard act to follow. Yes, boy? You have a suggestion?" "Is William Gladstone free, sir? I admire him." "Gladstone!" His master's eyes bulged. "The very idea... There are some names, boy, that are too great and too recent to touch. No one would dare! It would be the height of arrogance to assume his mantle." The eyebrows bristled. "If you aren't capable of a sensible suggestion, I shall do the choosing for you." 67/222