things: that the old gentleman was garrulous and affable, that he possessed a fine supply of tea and spice cake, and that his need for an assistant was greatly pressing.
"My last helper left me a fortnight ago," he said, sighing heavily. "Joined up to fight for Britain. I tried to talk him out of it, of course, but his heart was set on going. He believed what he was told—glory, good prospects, promotion, all that. He'll be dead soon, I expect. Yes, do have that last piece of cake, dear. You need feeding up. It's all very well for him, going off to die, but I fear my studies have been severely restricted."
"What studies are those, sir?" Kitty asked.
"Researches, dear. History of magic and other things. A fascinating area, sadly neglected. It's a crying shame that so many libraries are being closed—once again the government is acting out of fear. Well, I've saved a good many important books on the subject, and I wish to catalog and index them. It is my ambition to prepare a definitive list of all surviving djinn— existing records are so haphazard and contradictory. . . but as you have seen, I am not even dextrous enough to research my own collection, thanks to this impediment. . ." He shook a fist at his nonexistent leg.
"Erm, how did it happen, sir?" Kitty ventured. "If you don't mind my asking."
"My leg? " The old gentleman lowered his brows, glanced left and right, and looked up at Kitty. He spoke in a sinister whisper. "Marid."
"A marid? But aren't they the most—?"
"The most powerful type of commonly summoned demon. Correct." Mr. Button's smile was slightly smug. "I'm no slouch, my dear. Not that any of my colleagues" —he spoke the word with vehement distaste—"would admit as such, blast them. I'd like to see Rupert Devereaux or Carl Mortensen do as well." He sniffed, settled back into his sofa. "The irony of it was that I just wanted to ask it a few questions. Wasn't going to enslave it at all. Anyway, I'd forgotten to add a Tertiary Fettering; the thing broke out and had my leg off before the automatic Dismissal set in." He shook his head. "That's the penalty of curiosity, my dear. Well, I get by somehow. I'll find another assistant, if the Americans don't kill our entire population of young males."
He took a tetchy bite of his spice cake. Even before he had swallowed, Kitty had made up her mind. "I'll help you out, sir."
The old magician blinked at her. "You?"
"Yes, sir. I'll be your assistant."
"I'm sorry, my dear, but I thought you worked for Hyrnek's."
"Oh, I do, sir, but only temporarily. I'm looking for other work. I'm very interested in books and magic, sir. Really I am. I've always wanted to learn about it."
"Indeed. Do you speak Hebrew?"
"No, sir."
"Or Czech? Or French? Or Arabic?"
"No, none of those, sir."
"Indeed . . ." For a moment Mr. Button's face became less amiable, less courteous. He looked at her sidelong, out of half-shut eyes. "And the fact of the matter is, of course, that you are nothing but a commoners girl. . ."
Kitty nodded brightly. "Yes, sir. But I've always believed that misfortunes of birth shouldn't stand in the way of talent. I'm energetic and quick, and nimble too." She gestured around the maze of dusty piles. "I'll be able to get hold of any book you like, fast as thinking. From the bottom of the farthest stack." She grinned, and took a sip of tea.
The old man was rubbing his chin with small, plump fingers, muttering to himself. "A commoner's child. . . unvetted. . . it is highly unorthodox. . . in fact, the authorities expressly forbid it. But well, after all—why not?" He tittered to himself. "Why shouldn't I? They've seen fit to neglect me all these years. It would be an interesting experiment. . . and they'd never know, blast them." He looked at Kitty again, eyes narrowed. "You know I couldn't pay you anything."
"That's all right, sir. I'm, erm, interested in knowledge for its own sake. I'll get other work. I could help you out whenever you needed it,
"My last helper left me a fortnight ago," he said, sighing heavily. "Joined up to fight for Britain. I tried to talk him out of it, of course, but his heart was set on going. He believed what he was told—glory, good prospects, promotion, all that. He'll be dead soon, I expect. Yes, do have that last piece of cake, dear. You need feeding up. It's all very well for him, going off to die, but I fear my studies have been severely restricted."
"What studies are those, sir?" Kitty asked.
"Researches, dear. History of magic and other things. A fascinating area, sadly neglected. It's a crying shame that so many libraries are being closed—once again the government is acting out of fear. Well, I've saved a good many important books on the subject, and I wish to catalog and index them. It is my ambition to prepare a definitive list of all surviving djinn— existing records are so haphazard and contradictory. . . but as you have seen, I am not even dextrous enough to research my own collection, thanks to this impediment. . ." He shook a fist at his nonexistent leg.
"Erm, how did it happen, sir?" Kitty ventured. "If you don't mind my asking."
"My leg? " The old gentleman lowered his brows, glanced left and right, and looked up at Kitty. He spoke in a sinister whisper. "Marid."
"A marid? But aren't they the most—?"
"The most powerful type of commonly summoned demon. Correct." Mr. Button's smile was slightly smug. "I'm no slouch, my dear. Not that any of my colleagues" —he spoke the word with vehement distaste—"would admit as such, blast them. I'd like to see Rupert Devereaux or Carl Mortensen do as well." He sniffed, settled back into his sofa. "The irony of it was that I just wanted to ask it a few questions. Wasn't going to enslave it at all. Anyway, I'd forgotten to add a Tertiary Fettering; the thing broke out and had my leg off before the automatic Dismissal set in." He shook his head. "That's the penalty of curiosity, my dear. Well, I get by somehow. I'll find another assistant, if the Americans don't kill our entire population of young males."
He took a tetchy bite of his spice cake. Even before he had swallowed, Kitty had made up her mind. "I'll help you out, sir."
The old magician blinked at her. "You?"
"Yes, sir. I'll be your assistant."
"I'm sorry, my dear, but I thought you worked for Hyrnek's."
"Oh, I do, sir, but only temporarily. I'm looking for other work. I'm very interested in books and magic, sir. Really I am. I've always wanted to learn about it."
"Indeed. Do you speak Hebrew?"
"No, sir."
"Or Czech? Or French? Or Arabic?"
"No, none of those, sir."
"Indeed . . ." For a moment Mr. Button's face became less amiable, less courteous. He looked at her sidelong, out of half-shut eyes. "And the fact of the matter is, of course, that you are nothing but a commoners girl. . ."
Kitty nodded brightly. "Yes, sir. But I've always believed that misfortunes of birth shouldn't stand in the way of talent. I'm energetic and quick, and nimble too." She gestured around the maze of dusty piles. "I'll be able to get hold of any book you like, fast as thinking. From the bottom of the farthest stack." She grinned, and took a sip of tea.
The old man was rubbing his chin with small, plump fingers, muttering to himself. "A commoner's child. . . unvetted. . . it is highly unorthodox. . . in fact, the authorities expressly forbid it. But well, after all—why not?" He tittered to himself. "Why shouldn't I? They've seen fit to neglect me all these years. It would be an interesting experiment. . . and they'd never know, blast them." He looked at Kitty again, eyes narrowed. "You know I couldn't pay you anything."
"That's all right, sir. I'm, erm, interested in knowledge for its own sake. I'll get other work. I could help you out whenever you needed it,
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