My master uttered an oath. “Possibly your clawed left foot. Possibly your scaly tail. Also possibly the fact that even a newborn babe would know not to step outside his protective circle when requested to do so by a wicked, duplicitous spirit such as yourself. Now, silence, cursed creature of air, and abandon your pathetic temptations, or I shall strike you sideways with such a Pestilence as even great Egypt never suffered!” The old boy was quite excited, all out of breath, his white hair a disordered halo around his head. From behind his ear he took a stylus and grimly made a notation on the cylinder. “There’s a black mark there for you, Bartimaeus,” he said. “Another one. If this line gets filled, you’ll be off the special allowances list for good, you understand. No more roasted imps, no time off, nothing. Now, I’ve a job for you.”
