Ring Of Solomon (17 page)

Two hulking shapes rose from the gorge beyond. Both, like me, were winged in the bifurcated Assyrian style; both, like me, wore human bodies.
Unlike
me, they had chosen rather more exotic heads, the better to spread terror to their victims on the road.

The nearest, an utukku with a lion’s face, carried a bloodied spear
⁴⁵
. His comrade, whose head resembled that of an unpleasantly jowly, loose-skinned monitor lizard, preferred a scimitar; with horrid cries and feathered wings beating at the air, they flew towards me at speed.

I would kill them if I had to, but I preferred to kill their masters
⁴⁶
.

The Edomite magicians had each acted according to his nature. The first had panicked, spinning this way, then that, before finally tripping over his trailing robe and falling into the side of the nearest tent. Before he could regain his balance my Detonation expunged him in a ball of flame. The second stood his ground: from a bag beside the fire he drew a long, thin tube of glass. As I swooped towards him, he broke the tube against a rock and pointed the broken end at me. A cord of oily black substance emerged, swung lazily back, then darted out like a fisherman’s cast in my direction. I projected a Dark Node, which caught the centre of the smoky cord and, with a rude sucking noise, pulled it inwards into nothing. After the cord came the glass tube and the magician who held it: in the blink of an eye they too were sucked into the Node, which promptly ingested itself and so vanished.

Upon the death of the Edomite, which came a few short moments after his disappearance into the Node
⁴⁷
, the lion-headed utukku gave a joyous cry, became a resinous vapour and dissipated on the wind. The lizard-headed utukku, clearly the servant of the third magician, still remained; flourishing his scimitar, he interrupted my flight-path with a series of violent hacks and thrusts that I struggled to avoid.

‘Why couldn’t you have killed my one?’ the utukku said, slashing at my midriff.

I spun aside, darted, rolled over in mid-air. ‘I’m doing my best. Would you mind not trying to impale me in the meantime?’

The utukku dodged my Spasm; slashed with the scimitar. ‘It doesn’t work that way.’

‘I know.’

Evading the next attack by inches, I careened to the left and banked close to Earth; shooting between two tents, I rose again, scanning the ridge for the third magician, and was just in time to catch a flash of brown and caramel beginning a hurried descent into the ravine.

With murderous intent, and the utukku labouring behind, I followed the Edomite over the lip of the ridge, drifting like a hawk or other raptor following its mouse.

There he was, slipping and scrabbling down among the rocks, his robe hitched up about his knees, his sandals torn away. His face was tilted downwards, fixed in concentration on the slope. Not once did he look over his shoulder: he knew his death followed hard behind him on bright, white wings.

Beyond and below him, on the road, I glimpsed several other things: the sturdy form of Faquarl wrestling with a third utukku (this one with the head of a long-horned goat), two others lying dead beside him; and all around the remains of slaughter – camels and humans scattered like discarded rags across the blackened ground.

A buffet of air; I twisted sideways just too late, and felt a burst of pain as the utukku’s scimitar cut through one wingtip, sheared off a few primary feathers and utterly ruined my delightful symmetry. My balance went; my aero-dynamism likewise. I tumbled to the scree below, landed inelegantly on my back and began to roll down-slope.

The utukku came in fast, ready to commit the
coup de grâce
. To delay him (and this is not easily done when rolling at speed – try it yourself if you don’t believe me) I fired an Enervation over my shoulder. It hit him straight on, sapping his energies and making his movements treacly and sluggish. He dropped the scimitar. Wings drooping, limbs working listlessly, he fell to the ground and began tumbling in my wake.

We rolled downhill amid an avalanche of stones.

We fell onto the packed earth of the desert road.

We struggled into sitting positions.

We looked at each other, we each raised a hand. I was the quicker. I blew him apart with a Detonation.

Pieces of his essence fell to Earth, spattering the death-dry rocks and stones like refreshing rain. I struggled to my feet in the centre of the road, brushing dust from my bumps and bruises, letting my wings uncrumple, my battle-lust subside.

Over to my left Faquarl, having finally disposed of his goat-headed antagonist, was slowly, painfully doing likewise. Essence glistened brightly from a deep cut across his midriff, but he seemed otherwise unharmed.

Not bad going. Between us, we had dealt with five utukku and two of the three Edomite magicians
⁴⁸
. The bandit danger on Solomon’s roads was decisively dealt with for now.

Which reminded me. That
third
magician … Where—?

A voice, high and imperious, spoke close by. ‘Demons, do not move or speak but by our command, save only to prostrate yourself in abasement before the High Priestess of the Sun in the blessed land of Himyar. I am my queen’s representative and speak for her and all of Himyar, and I demand of you your names, identities and nature, on pain of our extreme displeasure.’

Is it just me, or would a simple ‘Hello’ have been enough?

⁴⁴
Bit of a contemporary look, this: it was the latest thing in Nimrud that century. The white feathers were a drag during combat – they didn’t half show up stains – but made you resemble a celestial being: fearsome, beautiful, cold, aloof. This was particularly useful when out hunting humans, who were often so busy gawping at you they quite forgot to run.

⁴⁵
Clearly the shrew, whatever its many faults, had not lied to us. Other travellers were currently being waylaid below.

⁴⁶
This is a generally sound principle. When forced into sudden battle with another spirit, you have no way of assessing their character. They may be repugnant and loathsome, or genial and pleasant, or any combination in between. The only certain fact is that they would not be fighting you were it not for the charge put upon them, and thus it makes sense to expunge the master and spare the puppet. In the case of the utukku, of course, it was safe to assume they had the morals of two ferrets fighting in a bag, but even so, the principle remained.

⁴⁷
This curious time delay always occurs in such cases. I sometimes wonder what, in those fleeting seconds, the victim’s consciousness
sees
or
experiences
inside the Node, alone in that infinity of nothing.

⁴⁸
Plus the shrew. But I’m not really sure you can count him.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t
noticed
we had company. It was just that I hadn’t cared. When you’re in the middle of a fight, you stick to the basics, namely trying to disembowel your enemy while stopping him tearing off your arm and beating you around the head with it. If you’ve any energy left over, you use it for swearing. Prostrating yourself before watching strangers doesn’t feature highly in the programme. Particularly when it’s
them
you’re saving.

So I took my time here, flicking the desert dust off my limbs and inspecting remote regions of my essence, before turning to see who’d spoken.

Not twelve inches away, a face regarded me with an expression that mingled arrogance, derision and the hope of obtaining grassy foodstuffs. This was a camel. Following its neck upwards, I discovered a couch of red and yellow silks set upon its saddle. Tasselled drapes hung below it; above, slumped on broken poles, there swung a canopy, now sadly burned and torn.

On the couch sat a young woman, little more than a girl. Her black hair was drawn back and mostly hidden by a silken headscarf, but her eyebrows were elegant and quizzical, her eyes as black as onyx. Her face was slim, its structure graceful, her skin-tone dark and even. A human might have accounted her beautiful. My expert eye also detected signs of wilfulness, high intelligence and stern resolve, though whether these qualities added to her beauty or detracted from it is not for me to say.

This girl sat straight-backed upon her camel-couch, one hand resting on the forward pommel of acacia wood, the other loosely holding the beast’s reins. She wore a hempen riding cloak, stained ochre from the desert storms, and singed in places by utukku fire; also a long woollen garment, woven with geometric designs in yellow and red. This was wrapped tight about her torso and more loosely about her legs. She rode side-saddle, her feet neatly encased in little leather shoes. Bronze bangles hung upon her slim, bare wrists. Around her neck she had a silver pendant, shaped like a sun.

Her hair was slightly disordered – a few strands had fallen across her face – and she had a small fresh cut beneath one eye; otherwise, she seemed none the worse for her ordeal.

This all takes a lot longer to recount than it did to observe. I stared at her for a moment. ‘Who spoke,’ I said, ‘you or the camel?’

The girl frowned. ‘It was I.’

‘Well, you have a camel’s manners.’ I turned aside. ‘We’ve just killed the utukku who were attacking you. By rights you should be on your knees thanking us for your deliverance. Wouldn’t you say so, Faquarl?’

My associate had at last drawn close, tentatively prodding at his gaping chest wound. ‘That goat!’ he grumbled. ‘Gored me with a horn just as I was strangling the other two. I ask you. Three against one! Some djinn haven’t the slightest conception of common courtesy …’ He noticed the girl for the first time. ‘Who’s this?’

I shrugged. ‘A survivor.’

‘Any others about?’

We surveyed the forlorn wreckage of the camel train, scattered about the gorge. All was silent, all was still, apart from a couple of riderless camels wandering in the distance, and some vultures circling lazily. No other survivors met the eye.

Someone else I couldn’t see was the fugitive Edomite magician. It struck me suddenly that he would be useful to bring back to Jerusalem alive. Solomon would be interested in hearing at first hand the reasons for the bandits’ activities …

The girl (who still hadn’t thanked us) was sitting on her couch, regarding Faquarl and me with her big dark eyes. I addressed her curtly. ‘I’m looking for one of the bandits who attacked your party. Came springing down the rock-face here. You must have seen him. Mind telling me which way he went –
if
it isn’t too much trouble?’

With a languid gesture, the girl indicated a large granite boulder on the opposite side of the road. Two feet projected from behind it. I hurried over, to discover the Edomite lying there, a silver-bladed dagger protruding neatly from the centre of his forehead. The silver’s aura made me nauseous; nevertheless, I shook him anxiously, in case he was just dazed. It was no good. Bang went the live witness I was hoping to take back to Solomon.

I looked towards the girl, hands on hips. ‘Did you do this?’

‘I am a priestess of the Temple of the Sun in blessed Himyar. That man’s demons destroyed my fellow travellers. Should I have let him live?’

‘Well, a little bit longer would have been nice. Solomon would have wanted to meet him.’ Annoyed as I was, I looked at the girl with a certain grudging respect. Priestess of the Sun or not, skewering a moving target without getting off her camel wasn’t bad going, though I had no intention of admitting it.

Faquarl had been regarding the girl as well, in a rather thoughtful manner. He nodded in her direction. ‘Where did she say she was from?’

The girl overheard; she spoke in ringing tones. ‘I say again, O demons, that I am a priestess of the Sun and representative of—’

‘She’s from Himyar.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Arabia someplace.’

‘- the Great and Royal House of Himyar! I speak for the queen and all her people, and we demand—’

‘I see …’ Faquarl beckoned me aside. We moved off a little way. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said softly. ‘If she’s not an Israelite, then she’s not covered by the protective clauses, is she
⁴⁹
?’

I rubbed my beardy chin. ‘True …’

‘And she’s not set foot in Jerusalem, either.’

‘No.’

‘Plus she’s young, she’s appetizing—’

‘Demons! I demand a word!’

‘
Very
appetizing,’ I agreed. ‘Good set of lungs on her too.’

‘And since, Bartimaeus, since we’re both a little
jaded
after all our hard work—’

‘Demons! Attend to me!’

‘Since we’re both, I might go so far as to say, a little
peckish
—’

‘Demons—’

‘Hold on a minute, Faquarl …’ I turned to address the Arabian girl. ‘Would you mind not using that word?’ I called. ‘“Demon” is an extremely pejorative term
⁵⁰
. It offends me. The correct way to address either of us would be something along the lines of “Revered djinni” or “Masterful spirit”. All right? Thank you.’

The girl’s eyes opened wide, but she said nothing. Which was a relief.

‘Sorry, Faquarl. Where were we?’

‘We were both a little peckish, Bartimaeus. So, what do you say? No one’s going to
know
, are they? Then we can fly back to our master and bask in our triumph. We’ll all be on Temple Mount by nightfall, sitting cosily around the fire. Meanwhile Khaba will be restored to Solomon’s good graces, and he’ll call off that shadow of his and save your sorry skin. How’s that sound to you?’

It didn’t sound at all bad, particularly the bit about the shadow. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Bagsy her haunches.’

‘Now
that’s
not fair. Who killed more utukku today?’

‘You can have the pick of the rest of her. And I’ll throw in the camel too.’

Bickering pleasantly, we turned back towards the girl, to discover her looking down upon us from on high with an expression so thunderous that even Faquarl flinched. She had pulled her shawl back from her head, so that her hair fell loose about her slender neck. Her face was fearsomely serene. Her slim arms were tightly folded, her fingers tapped pointedly upon her sleeve. Slight as she was, with badly singed clothes and dishevelled hair, sitting as she undoubtedly was upon an ugly camel beneath a sagging canopy, she
still
had enough force of personality to bring us both up short.