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tamarisks
Never once in seven years, from Antioch to Pergamum, had these assassins lost a victim.
krait!
brio
From topknot to toes, my essence was one long ache.
A somewhat corrugated girl got unsteadily to her feet.
He had all the grace of a filing cabinet, but at least he’d got the energy to fly.
The magician scowled. “How is this discontent expressed?” “I detect it in the careful blankness of their features when your police draw near. I see it in the hardness of their eyes as they pass the recruitment booths. I watch it pile up silently with the flowers at the doors of the bereaved. Most will not declare it openly, but their anger at the war and at their government is growing.”
“Revolution is not tangible—not to begin with.
Gray-haired, sober, and straight-backed, the model of tedious virtue.”
He summoned me from time to time to help out with minor incidents, which I haven’t got time to go into here,6 but generally
There followed a dismal sea change in my master’s personality.
viz.
Now, call me picky, but I’d argue that when you think of a 5,000-year-old djinni, the scourge of civilizations and confidante of kings, certain things come to mind—swashbuckling espionage, perhaps, or valiant battles, thrilling escapes and general multipurpose excitement.
General Multipurpose excitement
Erin Holtz liked this
skirling
garrulous
bijou
Bedouin.
precocious dissipation.
Luxor,
Alexandria
emollient
runkled
wodge
Zarbustibal.”
Known masters have included: Gilgamesh, Solomon, Zarbustibal, Heraclius, Hauser.
moribund
Some books were useless, written in foreign tongues, or in phrases so abstruse that the sentences seemed to coil up on themselves before her eyes.
Mr. Devereaux had chosen a round table for reasons of diplomacy. Technically no one person took precedence over another—an admirable policy which had been undermined by his insistence on using a gigantic golden chair, ornately carved with swollen cherubs.
An expensive suit hung uneasily on his frame, as if reluctant to get too close;
Erin Holtz liked this
compared to him, Jenkins looked like Atlas.
“Are there many of us?” Burke asked. If Withers bleated like a sheep, Burke’s voice was more bovine, that of a ruminative dullard.
Hopkins?
I wasn’t scared of him, of course; dear me, no. Let’s call it judiciously nervous.
Away over in the center of the park gleamed the great Glass Palace, a marvelous confusion of domes and minarets, all shimmering with light.
For a brief instant I caught sight of his face: bland, even-featured, utterly unmemorable. So why was it that something in it aroused a deep sense of recognition and made me shudder?
Ptolemaeus of Alexandria (fl. c. 120 B.C.) Child-magician, born into the ruling Ptolemaic Dynasty, nephew of Ptolemy VIII and cousin of the crown prince (later Ptolemy IX).
He is definitely recorded as dead by the time of his uncle’s funeral and his cousin’s accession to the throne (116 B.C.), so is unlikely to have reached his twenties.
dormers.
Servants in the vibrant garb of firebirds and salamanders drifted here and there, offering refreshment.
Suddenly Very glad my catering uniform was all black.
pavane;
parlous.
plasms
disputatious
Makepeace shrugged. “Perhaps he senses the demon inside. Perhaps it talks within him. Hard to tell. I have not tried it with a commoner before.” “You have used others?” “A single one only. A volunteer. That union has worked extremely well.”
But still, she couldn’t have summoned me. I knew this. The pocket demon shook its head. “It’s a trick,” I said slowly. I glanced about, my gaze probing the corners of the room with rapier-keen precision. “The real magician’s here somewhere…hiding.…”
Just as he thought first time Nathaniel summoned him..
shtoom.
plangent
