...It was hard to see how the situation could possibly get any worse.
A froth of steam, a roar, a mad, red eye lowered to my level.
"Bartimaeus!"
Well, that was one way. Bull-head was no longer squabbling. He had suddenly remembered who I was. "I know you now!" he cried. "Your voice! Yes it is you--the destroyer of my people! At last! I have waited twenty-seven centuries for this moment!"
When you're faced with a comment like that, it's hard to think of anything to say.
The utukku raised his silver spear and howled out the triumphant battle cry that his kind always deliver with the death stroke.
I settled for whirring my wings. You know, in a forlorn, defiant sort of way.
I liked that part. (obviously)