'Ello and welcome to my little world! This is a two-shot, possibly three if I'm inspired. The pairing, in case you can't read very well, is Bartimaeus x Kitty, because there needs to be way more of those out there. So...be inspired, fellow authors and authoresses! Write BartyKitty!
Okay, on to business then. The time period for this is set a year or so after the last book, at which point the characters are sufficiently healed about Nathaniel's death and Kitty is done with the traveling that she mentioned. And now for the disclaimer:
Bartimaeus: -reads from script- The all-powerful (Ha! All-powerful? You?) Twilight Dragoness does not own the Bartimaeus Trilogy (as if she could own something so perfect-and-almighty-yet-humble-and-surprisingly-benevolent as myself) or the tango. -pause- Wait a minute. The...tango...?
Twilight: -shoves Bartimaeus into story- Ah...yes, you heard that right. I have gone temporarily insane and incorporated the tango into our little tale. So sue me.
Another half-turn, the red dress spinning around her amidst a world of color, light, and sound, a living fire breathing through her lungs, flowing in her every moment, gleaming in her eyes, as well as in the eyes of her partner.
How did this happen…? This wasn't according to plan…
Soon her thoughts were swept away once more in a rush of quick steps and a feeling of immersion into something totally unreal – not that that was anything new. But this was different. That place had been all gentle waves and currents, always intermingling and flowing.
This was a world of fire and roses.
So here I was, just minding my own business, at home in the Other Place. (1) I got the leisure of doing this a bit more lately; for some strange reason, the British government seemed to think that I was dead. Such a pity. But as I was saying, I was just enjoying myself, at peace with everything etc. etc., when what should I feel but a summons? If you haven't figured it out by now, (2) I don't particularly enjoy this sensation. It's like having fishhooks digging into your back and pulling you off to eternal torment. And I use "fishhooks" in the loosest possible sense. Grappling hooks may be a more adequate description.
Eh, even if the British thought I was dead, that didn't mean that the others were informed. And while there were strides being taken on the human side of things to tone down the slavery of greater beings, freedom was still a long ways off. Notice that I never said "great strides." But I suppose I owe the progress, minimal as it is, to a certain kitten, now don't I?
On to the summons business. Mmm…I was getting bored with my usual bag of tricks. Very bored. Sure, Ptolemy's great. In fact, he's still my most comfortable form. But as for scaring off inexperienced humans, a somewhat scrawny Egyptian boy never really did the trick. Maybe…naw. If Ptolemy wouldn't work, he definitely wouldn't. (3) I didn't have much time left, and I still hadn't figured out what I wanted. I decided, rather reluctantly, on an innocent-looking cherub. Classy, if not overtly frightening. Believe it or not, sometimes magicians were more scared of heavenly things then denizens of the Other Place. I'd say it was guilt if I didn't know any better. Unfortunately, I do.
I materialized with a refreshing scent with a bit of a questionable undertone to accompany me along with a few unfurling clouds along the edges of the pentacle. I added a few strains of harp music, just for the heck of it. Hey, if I was going with the idea, it might as well be cheesy. Just as I was about to open my oh-so-innocent sapphire eyes, the effect was completely ruined. Ruined by what, you may ask? Oh, nothing. Just a human girl laughing at me until she was almost doubled over. Speaking of that certain kitten…
(1): Well, I can't really mind my own business there, as you should know, seeing as we're all one. But that would make it my own business, wouldn't it, if I was the same as them and they were…oh, forget it. Your feeble human mind must be spinning.
(2): If you haven't, then you're even slower than your species' average, and trust me, that's slow.
(3): Well, maybe they would be so terrified of the awful wardrobe that…oh, who am I kidding? Those clothes really only seemed to be my darkest fear. The boy in them? He didn't seem so bad. Eventually.
"I-I'm sorry, Bartimaeus," Kitty managed between fits of laughter. "It's just…you as an angel…"
"It's called irony," the djinni responded testily. "I was getting bored." He took on Ptolemy's form rather quickly. "So, what is it this time?"
Kitty finally regained control of her breathing.
"What, I can't see you just because?"
"Well, you always seem to need a favor when you do…"
"Only because I've felt guilty ever since you told me what the summons felt like."
"Yeah, well. Better seeing you at the other end than some stuck-up magician."
"Good to see you too."
Kitty stepped out of her circle readily in order to greet him properly. She never felt comfortable talking while in the pentacles; it put her in the unfair position of "master" once again. The djinni quickly did the same.
"Hey," he smirked, "Getting my essence ripped across a void between dimensions is always worth seeing you."
"Why Bartimaeus, is that sarcasm?" she asked, playing along as usual. It really was only traditional. They both knew that the djinni, reluctant though he may seem, actually meant what he said.
"Sarcasm? Me? Of course not. By the way, your face has gotten so much better since last time." Kitty scowled, going so far as to give him a playful shove, before thoughtfully fingering the lingering wrinkles that he was referring to. It was true, they had lessened extremely since the…incident, and she had dyed her hair back to its original color. In fact, she had even regained much of her energy as time had progressed. But her true age was still difficult to gauge, and she was often overcome with fatigue at very inconvenient times.
Motioning for him to wait, she went to her desk and began rummaging around while the djinni looked on.
"Nice place you got here."
"You said that last time."
"And it's still nice."
She rolled her eyes. "The government likes me, even if I don't particularly like it. At least the commoners have a say in things now. Things are looking up. Huh, I could've sworn I put it right here…" She began to look through the desk drawer.
"Is there privacy? I would hate to be…rediscovered." She could almost sense his involuntary shudder at the last word.
"You're paranoid. The privacy itself is what allowed me to find out that you were still alive. I wouldn't be stupid enough to try summoning you in a public place."
"Well, London is the magical capitol of the world. A huge amount of summonings used to come for me from here. If you were in my position for all those years, you wouldn't want to risk starting them up again either."
"I suppose not…Oh, here it is!" She triumphantly held up a very important-looking envelope, complete with intricate seal (now broken) and very spidery handwriting on the front.
"Why, it's an envelope."
"Well, yeah. But it's what's inside that counts."
"That sounds like some sappy novel…"
"Inside the envelope, stupid."
"There's a sappy novel in the envelope?"
"No! There's an invitation…"
"Oh, really? You finally get a date? Congrats!"
"No, it's an invitation to a ballroom dance – "
"Well, that's clichéd. I would think that you'd pick a more original boyfriend. I wouldn't be surprised if he was the one writing the sappy novel."
"There is no sappy novel!"
"Then why are we still discussing this?"
"…"
"…"
"You're impossible, you know that?"
"I try."
Kitty gave an exaggerated sigh, doing her best to hide her smile. She noticed that Bartimaeus was still peering at the envelope, and removed its contents, shoving them in front of his face with a carefully-placed scowl. "There. See? No sappy romance novel or whatever. And this is definitely no invitation from a boyfriend. In fact, it's from a very important minister."
"And this involves me because…?"
"Because I suspect this minister of treason. No one seems to believe me, but I think that he's ignoring the regulations on summoning, and something worse is probably to come." The djinni, studying the invitation, looked thoughtful.
"That would make sense, London being at a pivotal moment and all. Hey, wait a minute…this isn't even addressed to you."
"Well, no. It's addressed to a Mr. Clyde Walker in Greenwich, in fact. Mr. Walker is a young politician who usually goes unnoticed by the mainstream magicians because he doesn't live in the 'magic capitol of the world,' which he is somehow able to use to his advantages, according to my sources, don't ask me how. The other guests include-"
"Wait, wait, wait. What sources?"
Kitty gave a little smile. She had spent a bit of time perfecting the look, and it had the ability to send chills down the spine of quite a few grown men.
"I have connections."
"Sure, be vague about it, why don't you."
"As I was saying, other guests include notable figures from throughout the country, as well as a few others from the continent. In short, the upper crust. But none of the other ministers are invited, and none of them are going to complain. Why? Because it's a ballroom dance, and it's meant to be taken literally. Only dancers. Mr. Walker happens to be a rising star in that area."
"Wait, what?"
"You heard me. Dancers only."
"I'm starting to get the feeling that I don't wanna know why this involves me."
"No, you probably don't."
"Well in that case, what do you say we go see one of those plays? I'm sure we could think up better things to throw at the actors than popcorn."
"I would, if I weren't protecting national security."
"Since when did you care?"
"Since things started going decently for the commoners."
"Okay, I'll just go by myself."
"You do that. I'm not your master, after all."
"Right." A pause followed as Bartimaeus eyed Kitty warily, who was innocently studying the return address on the envelope. He gave a weary sigh.
"Out of curiosity's sake…what exactly were you going to have me do?"
Well, this is annoying. Dragged out of my natural habitat only to be part of yet another attempt to unravel a political plot. Just like old times. And just like old times, Bartimaeus of Uruk, the Serpent of the Silver Plumes, would have to play the hero once more. There were only two differences now. First of all, no one was forcing me. Kitty made it clear that it was my choice entirely. But the thing is, I knew that what she wanted was for me to go along with it. And I think that I made it clear a couple of years back that ever since she came to my world instead of the other way around, what Kitty says goes. Sure, she may not be actually forcing me, but I was stuck with it anyway. Only difference was that I was almost glad to do something to help.(1) Sometimes I don't even think I know me.
The other difference was in the nature of the mission itself. No daring midnight exploits or desperate escape attempts or even displaying my acrobatic abilities on the rooftops, oh no. This time I was going incognito – as a certain Mr. Clyde Walker. A bit of a letdown, really.
"You know this is ridiculous, right?"
"Bartimaeus, it's not ridiculous, it's necessary!"
"And things that are necessary can't be ridiculous?"
"Aha! So you admit that it's necessary."
"Wait, what? I never said…but…"
"Let's get started, then. We've got a lot of ground to cover."
I heaved an over-dramatic sigh.
"Woe is me! To be a slave to the whim of-"
"You know that's not going to work. I'm not forcing you to do anything. Now do you know how or not?"
"It's not the knowledge, it's the principle of the thing – "
"Oh, suck it up."
The sad thing is, I knew how to do what she wanted to learn. It was hard not to pick it up after all those years serving royalty. That's right – the mighty Bartimaeus, who spoke with Solomon, who rebuilt the walls of Prague, etc., etc…was giving a dance lesson. (2) The girl's logic can be so twisted sometimes. According to her, only I could be Walker because of her quote-unquote "inability to shape shift." Big deal. And of course, she wanted to be there to expose the plot itself, and Walker needed a dance partner, so…
Only problem is, as quick as she can be, Kitty's got two left feet when it comes to dancing. I, of course, being nimble in body and mind, find it quite simple. But teaching her is quite another matter. Any innocent passersby may have heard this incredibly intellectually stimulating conversation:
"Ouch, you're stepping on my essence!"
"Where?"
"Where do you think? The foot!"
"Then why didn't you say so?"
"Because it's not really a foot."
"Oh, like I can tell where you mean by you just saying 'essence.' Maybe it's news to you, but you're completely composed of it."
And then, two hours or so later:
"Oh, wait…you mean this one is the waltz?"
"The one we've been doing for the past hour? Yes, Kitty, this is the waltz," was the suave reply, the noble djinni's teeth clenching in spite of his brave attempt to restrain it. Said innocent passersby may have heard quite a few more interesting tidbits, not many of which merit recording(3), and may have found themselves dangerously near a few rogue objects that seemed to find their way out of the window at high velocity. I wonder if the real Walker will think himself snubbed that he didn't receive an invitation.
(1) Hey. If you think about it, as sappy as it sounds, it makes sense. It's not possible for you to comprehend what her actions implicated.
(2) And I'd appreciate it if you kept that interesting little tidbit to yourself. I mean it.
(3) Not whatsoever. Plus, the rating would have to go up if they were.
Right. And now for the review pimping. REVIEW! It doesn't take too long to press that little button that's practically calling your name. Can't you hear it? "Pick me! Pick me!"