(eng) Jonathan Stroud - Bartimaeus 01 by The Amulet of Samarkand

Author:The Amulet of Samarkand [Samarkand, The Amulet of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

In the narrow, pitch-black tunnel, Faquarl’s voice sounded muffled and strange. “We’re nearly out. Being a raven would be most appropriate from now on.”

“Why?”

“There are dozens of the things out there. We can mingle with the flock and gain time while we make for the walls.”

Loath as I was to follow Faquarl’s advice about anything, I had no idea what we were up against outside. Escape from the Tower was the priority. Escape from him could come later. So I concentrated and shifted form.

“Have you changed?”

“Yep. It’s not a guise I’ve tried before, but it doesn’t seem too difficult.”

“Any sign of Jabor behind us?”

“No.”

“He’ll be along. Right, the opening to the outside is just ahead of me. There’s a Concealment on the exit hole, so they shouldn’t have spotted it yet. Fly out fast and go straight down. You’ll see a kitchen yard where the ravens congregate to gather scraps; I’ll meet you there. Above all, don’t be conspicuous.”

A scrabbling in the tunnel ahead, then a sudden burst of light. Faquarl was gone, revealing the outline of the exit, covered with a mesh of concealing threads. I hopped forward until my beak hit the barrier, pressed against it and pushed my head through into the cold November air.

Without pause, I pushed off from the hole and began to glide toward the courtyard below.

As I descended, a brief glance around confirmed how far I was from safety: the distant rooftops of London were barely visible behind a series of rounded towers and curtain walls. Guards walked upon them, and search spheres moved randomly through the sky. The alarm had already been raised. From some eyrie high above, a siren was wailing, and not far off, within this innermost courtyard, battalions of police were running toward an unseen point.

I landed in a little side yard, cut off from the general panic by two outbuildings that projected from the body of the main tower. The cobbles of the yard were covered in greasy scraps of bread and bacon rind, and by a hungry, cawing flock of ravens.

One of the ravens sidled over. “You idiot, Bartimaeus.”

“What’s up?”

“Your beak’s bright blue. Change it.”

Well, it was my first time as a raven. And I’d had to alter in the dark. What did he expect? But it wasn’t the time or place to argue. I changed the beak.

“They’ll see through the disguise anyway,” I snapped. “There must be a thousand sentries of one sort or another out there.”

“True, but all we need’s a little time. They don’t know we’re ravens yet, and if we’re in a flock, it’ll take them a few extra seconds to pick us out and check. All we need now is for the flock to fly….”

One moment a hundred ravens were snapping innocently at cold bacon rind, at peace with themselves and the world. The next, Faquarl revealed his true self to them on the first plane: he only did so for a fraction of a second, but the glimpse was enough. Four

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