schoolwork. While Mrs. Underwood fixed the cornflakes and toast, he would try to finish the homework left over from the night before. Mrs. Underwood frequently did her best to help him.
"Azerbaijan? The capital's Baku, I think."
"Bakoo?"
"Yes. Look in your atlas. What are you learning that for?"
"Mr. Purcell says I have to master the Middle East this Week—learn the countries and stuff."
"Don't look so down. Toast's ready. Well, it is important you learn all that 'stuff'—you have to know the background before you can get to the interesting bits."
"But it's so boring!"
"That's all you know. I've been to Azerbaijan. Baku's a bit of a dump, but it is an important center for researching afrits."
"What are they?"
"Demons of fire. The second most powerful form of spirit. The fiery element is very strong in the mountains of Azerbaijan. That's where the Zoroastrian faith began too; they venerate the divine fire found in all living things. If you're looking for the chocolate spread, it's behind the cereal."
"Did you see a djinni when you were there, Mrs. Underwood?"
"You don't need to go to Baku to find a djinni, Nathaniel—and don't speak with your mouth full. You're spraying crumbs all over my tablecloth. No, djinn will come to you, especially if you're here in London."
"When will I see a freet?"
"An afrit. Not for a long time, if you know what's good for you. Now, finish up quickly—Mr. Purcell will be waiting."
After breakfast, Nathaniel would gather his school books and head upstairs to the first-floor workroom where Mr. Purcell would indeed be waiting for him. His teacher was a young man with thinning blond hair, which he frequently smoothed down in a vain effort to hide his scalp. He wore a gray suit that was slightly too big for him and an alternating sequence of horrible ties. His first name was Walter. Many things made him nervous, and speaking to Mr. Underwood (which he had to, on occasion) made him downright twitchy. As a result of his nerves, he took his frustrations out on Nathaniel. He was too honest a man to be really brutal with the boy, who was a competent worker; instead he tended to snap tetchily at his mistakes, yipping like a small dog.
Nathaniel learned no magic with Mr. Purcell. His teacher did not know any. Instead he had to apply himself to other subjects, primarily mathematics, modern languages (French, Czech), geography, and history. Politics was also important.
"Now then, young Underwood," Mr. Purcell would say. "What is the chief purpose of our noble government?" Nathaniel looked blank. "Come on! Come on!"
"To rule us, sir?"
"To protect us. Do not forget that our country is at war. Prague still commands the plains east of Bohemia, and we are struggling to keep her armies out of Italy. These are dangerous times. Agitators and spies are loose in London. If the Empire is to be kept whole, a strong government must be in place, and strong means magicians. Imagine the country without them! It would be unthinkable: commoners would be in charge! We would slip into chaos, and invasion would quickly follow. All that stands between us and anarchy is our leaders. This is what you should aspire to, boy. To be a part of the Government and rule honorably. Remember that."
"Yes, sir."
"Honor is the most important quality for a magician," Mr. Purcell went on. "He or she has great power, and must use it with discretion. In the past, rogue magicians have attempted to overthrow the State: they have always been defeated. Why? Because true magicians fight with virtue and justice on their side."
"Mr. Purcell, are you a magician?"
His teacher smoothed back his hair and sighed. "No, Underwood. I was... not selected. But I still serve as best I can. Now—"
"Then you're a commoner?"
Mr. Purcell slapped the table with his palm. "If you please! I'm asking the questions! Take up your protractor. We shall move on to geometry."
Shortly after his eighth birthday, Nathaniel's curriculum was expanded. He
"Azerbaijan? The capital's Baku, I think."
"Bakoo?"
"Yes. Look in your atlas. What are you learning that for?"
"Mr. Purcell says I have to master the Middle East this Week—learn the countries and stuff."
"Don't look so down. Toast's ready. Well, it is important you learn all that 'stuff'—you have to know the background before you can get to the interesting bits."
"But it's so boring!"
"That's all you know. I've been to Azerbaijan. Baku's a bit of a dump, but it is an important center for researching afrits."
"What are they?"
"Demons of fire. The second most powerful form of spirit. The fiery element is very strong in the mountains of Azerbaijan. That's where the Zoroastrian faith began too; they venerate the divine fire found in all living things. If you're looking for the chocolate spread, it's behind the cereal."
"Did you see a djinni when you were there, Mrs. Underwood?"
"You don't need to go to Baku to find a djinni, Nathaniel—and don't speak with your mouth full. You're spraying crumbs all over my tablecloth. No, djinn will come to you, especially if you're here in London."
"When will I see a freet?"
"An afrit. Not for a long time, if you know what's good for you. Now, finish up quickly—Mr. Purcell will be waiting."
After breakfast, Nathaniel would gather his school books and head upstairs to the first-floor workroom where Mr. Purcell would indeed be waiting for him. His teacher was a young man with thinning blond hair, which he frequently smoothed down in a vain effort to hide his scalp. He wore a gray suit that was slightly too big for him and an alternating sequence of horrible ties. His first name was Walter. Many things made him nervous, and speaking to Mr. Underwood (which he had to, on occasion) made him downright twitchy. As a result of his nerves, he took his frustrations out on Nathaniel. He was too honest a man to be really brutal with the boy, who was a competent worker; instead he tended to snap tetchily at his mistakes, yipping like a small dog.
Nathaniel learned no magic with Mr. Purcell. His teacher did not know any. Instead he had to apply himself to other subjects, primarily mathematics, modern languages (French, Czech), geography, and history. Politics was also important.
"Now then, young Underwood," Mr. Purcell would say. "What is the chief purpose of our noble government?" Nathaniel looked blank. "Come on! Come on!"
"To rule us, sir?"
"To protect us. Do not forget that our country is at war. Prague still commands the plains east of Bohemia, and we are struggling to keep her armies out of Italy. These are dangerous times. Agitators and spies are loose in London. If the Empire is to be kept whole, a strong government must be in place, and strong means magicians. Imagine the country without them! It would be unthinkable: commoners would be in charge! We would slip into chaos, and invasion would quickly follow. All that stands between us and anarchy is our leaders. This is what you should aspire to, boy. To be a part of the Government and rule honorably. Remember that."
"Yes, sir."
"Honor is the most important quality for a magician," Mr. Purcell went on. "He or she has great power, and must use it with discretion. In the past, rogue magicians have attempted to overthrow the State: they have always been defeated. Why? Because true magicians fight with virtue and justice on their side."
"Mr. Purcell, are you a magician?"
His teacher smoothed back his hair and sighed. "No, Underwood. I was... not selected. But I still serve as best I can. Now—"
"Then you're a commoner?"
Mr. Purcell slapped the table with his palm. "If you please! I'm asking the questions! Take up your protractor. We shall move on to geometry."
Shortly after his eighth birthday, Nathaniel's curriculum was expanded. He
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