Ring Of Solomon (35 page)

From then on though, things got trickier – mainly because of the nature of the Ring.

It was so
bright
for starters. On the first plane the room was adequately lit by several flickering oil lamps
⁹⁷
, but on the higher ones the aura of that little golden speck leached everything whiter and brighter than the Egyptian sands at noon. It was so overwhelming that it actually made me sick to use my inner eyes. Except in briefest snatches, I stuck with the first plane from then on.

The actual sleight-of-hand stuff – putting a quick Illusion on a squid ring and substituting it for the real Ring on the plate –
that
was easy too, at least in principle. Stealing stuff is second nature to djinn – always has been, mainly because it’s all we’re ever asked to do
⁹⁸
. So the sand cat simply tiptoed up behind Solomon’s chair, and waited until one of the girl’s spasms of righteous outrage coincided with one of the king’s. No sooner were they both rolling their eyes and huffing loudly than I stuck out my paw, made my switch faster than blinking, and retreated in haste towards the window.

Which was when I hit the real snag.

How
that Ring hurt me.

Of course, the silver dish that Solomon had plonked it on for safekeeping hadn’t done my essence any good at all. If it had been any normal object sitting there, I’d have been most reluctant to go anywhere near it. But to steal the Ring of Solomon? I could cope with a little bit of blistering for that. So I girded my furry loins and did the deed, and it was only when I was moving away from the silver’s baleful chill that I realized the Ring I held lightly between my teeth was
also
causing problems.

It wasn’t a cold burning sensation like silver (or iron, or any of the other substances that are anathema to spirits). It was hotter than that, and at first not so troublesome. It began as the faintest prickling of my essence round where I held the Ring. The feeling was curiously familiar – painful, but also pleasant – and quickly grew to become a sharp, insistent
tugging
. By the time the sand cat had made it back into concealment behind the rack of scrolls, I felt almost as if I was being pulled in two. I spat the Ring down onto the floor and regarded it (on the first plane) in consternation.

Philocretes hadn’t lied. The energies of the Other Place pulsed furiously in this little golden ring. It had been created as an instant portal between the dimensions, and even while closed, there was something of a draught coming under the door. The tugging sensation was exactly the same thing I experienced whenever I was released from service in this world.
Then
, of course, it was welcome, because I could give in to it; now, trapped as I was on Earth, it didn’t half sting. Even after a bare few moments holding the Ring, my essence felt oddly out of kilter, pulled out of shape by the forces it contained. I dreaded to think what would have happened if I’d actually put it on
⁹⁹
.

Putting it on, needless to say, was what Solomon did every single day.

I still hadn’t seen his face, but even from behind I could tell he didn’t look exactly as he had down on the building site. His hair was grey, for one thing, and there was something ominously thin about the arms and hands. In a flash I understood something of the price he paid.

I thought about this while I sat quiet, eyeing the Ring dubiously and recovering from its touch. Beyond the rack, meanwhile, the argument was in full flow, both girl and king working themselves up into paroxysms of fury. Part of me still hoped Big Sol might lose it, produce an afrit from somewhere and blast the girl to smithereens, so that I could just leave the Ring lying and head off home. But my hopes weren’t high. Clearly he didn’t like having spirits (or humans) of any kind in his apartments at night. He relied on Illusions – such as the many-tentacled monster – and his fearsome reputation to keep his enemies at bay.

Likewise, if the girl had been a
real
assassin, she’d have scissor-kicked suddenly through the air, done a fancy twirl, and snapped his neck between her thighs before doing the splits on landing. I’d have paid good money to see that. But instead she just got red-faced and a bit shouty, and then decided to end it all in a kind of futile grump
¹⁰⁰
.

Cue Solomon grimly turning the Ring upon his finger.

Cue his discovery that all wasn’t as it seemed.

Cue my sudden entrance, casual as you like, and their consequent stupefaction
¹⁰¹
.

I’ve had worse moments in my career.

‘Hello,
Asmira
,’ I said pleasantly. ‘Hello, Solomon.’ I smoothed out my whiskers with a paw. ‘First one to recover gets a prize.’

The girl gave a strangled gasp. ‘I thought you were dead.’

‘Nope.’

‘I thought that giant demon—’

‘Wasn’t one. It was an Illusion. Solomon seems to specialize in them.’

She scowled indignantly at the king. ‘You said you saved me from it!’

‘You can’t believe anything
anyone
says, can you?’ I winked at Solomon, who was staring at me in blankest incomprehension. ‘We meet again, O King. In rather different circumstances to last time.’

There was a pause. Well, give him his due, he hadn’t seen my cat get-up before. Plus he was probably still in shock.

I laughed lightly. ‘That’s right, my friend. Bartimaeus of Uruk, at your service.’

‘Who?’

The tip of the cat’s tail kinked slightly with annoyance. ‘Bartimaeus. Of
Uruk
. Surely you recall …? Oh, Great Marduk on high.’ With the swiftness of thought the cat became a pygmy hippo in a skirt, plump forearms lodged indignantly on hips. ‘Well, perhaps you remember
this
?’

Asmira blinked at me. ‘Is this one of your usual guises?’

‘No. Well, not often. Look, it’s a long story.’

Solomon gave a sudden start. ‘I recall you! You are one of Khaba’s djinn!’ He glared at the girl. ‘So, then … it was the
Egyptian
who sent you here …’

I shook my head pityingly. ‘Hardly! I am Khaba’s slave no longer! Bartimaeus of Uruk has ways of escaping the harshest bondage. No magician holds
me
long! Time and again I—’

‘Khaba trapped him in a bottle,’ the girl interrupted. ‘I got him out. He’s
my
slave now.’

‘Technically speaking’ – I scowled – ‘that may be true. But it won’t be the case for long. I’ve learned your birth-name,
Asmira
, and that puts you at a sudden disadvantage. If you want to live much longer, I suggest you dismiss me right away.’

The girl ignored me. She stepped across to Solomon and plucked the silver dagger from his lap. He made no move to stop her. She stood close beside his chair, with the weapon held towards him.

‘Give me the Ring, Bartimaeus,’ she said abruptly. ‘We’re going.’

I cleared my throat. ‘Wait a minute. Didn’t you hear what I said? I know your name. I can deflect any Ward you throw.’

‘You still have to do what I say, don’t you? Where’s the Ring?’

‘Dismiss me, and I’ll tell you as I go.’

‘What? Like I’m going to agree to that!’

King Solomon of Israel had been sitting in his chair, watching us both intently. Suddenly he spoke; frail as he seemed, his voice still carried its note of assured command. ‘Bartimaeus of Uruk, did you carry out the charge I gave you?’

‘What charge?’ The hippo stared. ‘You mean sorting out the bandits in the desert? Yes, I did, as it happens, but that’s not really what we’re talking about right now. Listen, Asmira—’

‘Tell me of these bandits,’ Solomon persisted. ‘Who were they? Who was their leader?’

‘Er, they were sent by the king of the Edomites, who’s annoyed with you for this massive yearly tribute you keep demanding. But you’ll agree this isn’t really the time—’

‘
Tribute?
What tribute is this? I’ve never demanded one!’

‘The king of the Edomites thinks you have,’ I said. ‘Just as the Queen of Sheba thinks you’re after her frankincense. All rather puzzling, isn’t it? Someone’s up to no good behind your back. But forgive me, O great Solomon, you don’t seem to quite realize the situation you’re in. You’re powerless. I’ve stolen your Ring.’

‘Correction:
I’ve
stolen it,’ the girl said. ‘I’m his master.’

‘Nominally,’ the hippo growled. ‘But not for long.’

‘Give me the Ring, Bartimaeus!’

‘No! What about my Dismissal?’

‘Come on, Bartimaeus,’ Solomon said suddenly. ‘Why
don’t
you give her the Ring?’

The girl and I both hesitated. We broke off our argument and stared at him.

King Solomon stretched in his chair, took a piece of smoked mackerel and popped it in his mouth
¹⁰²
. It had to be said he didn’t seem quite as perturbed by events as might have been expected. ‘Give her the Ring,’ he said again. ‘Why not? Why the reluctance? You should ask yourself, Asmira of Sheba, why your servant hesitates in this very simple matter. Surely he should wish to carry out his charge so that you let him go. Can it be,’ Solomon went on, looking between us, one to the other, with his tired eyes, ‘that the djinni has understood something about the Ring that
you
don’t yet realize? Can it be that he wants to get far from here before you find it out?’

The hippo blew out its cheeks resignedly. He was right, of course. I flicked a forefoot towards the nearest rack of scrolls. ‘You want the Ring?’ I sighed. ‘It’s under the rack, on the far side.’

The girl frowned at me. ‘Keep watch on Solomon,’ she said.

She stalked past me to the rack, crouched low. There was a pause as her fingers quested, then a little gasp of triumph. I screwed my eyes up tight and waited.

A scream; the sound of a ring rolling back upon the floor. When I looked across, the girl was tightly clasping her hand beneath her arm.

‘It
burns
!’ she cried. ‘What have you
done
to it, demon?’

‘Me?’

‘You’ve put some cursed magic on it!’ With her good hand, she waved the silver dagger. ‘Take it off this instant, or I swear—’

It was at this moment that King Solomon stood up; and though (speaking frankly) he was in his nightie, though his frame was thin, though his face, without its cloak of Illusion, was lined and aged, he nevertheless projected a sudden severe authority, so that the girl and I fell instantly quiet. ‘The djinni speaks truly,’ he said. ‘The Ring of Solomon brings pain. That is its nature. If you wish for proof, look here.’ And he held up his hand, with the livid mark upon its finger.

The girl stared at it. ‘I – I don’t understand,’ she stammered. ‘No. This is a trick. I’m not listening to you.’ But though her eyes returned to the little fleck of gold and obsidian lying on the floor beside her feet, she did not pick it up, nor make any move to do so.

‘It’s not a trick,’ I said. ‘It burned me too.’ Note that I’d just changed from the beskirted hippo into the dark-haired young Sumerian boy, who, while less adorably curvy, better reflected the gravity of the moment. I felt that something important was approaching fast, and I didn’t know which way it was going to go.

‘But why
should
it burn?’ the girl said plaintively. ‘How will my queen—? I thought the Ring—’

Solomon said quietly: ‘Let me tell you what I know of the Ring, Asmira. After that you can do what you like with it – and with me.’

She hesitated, looking towards the door, then back at the object at her feet. She stared at Solomon, and at the dagger in her hand. She swore under her breath. ‘Quickly, then. And no tricks.’

‘When I was young,’ King Solomon said at once, ‘my interest was in treasures of the past – a passion that remains with me still
¹⁰³
. I journeyed far in search of them, bartering in the bazaars of Thebes and Babylon for relics of the ancient days. I also visited the ruins of yet older cities, places whose names are lost to men. One such site lay on the desert’s edge beside the Tigris River. It is nothing now but a few worn mounds covered with earth and sand. No doubt, over the centuries, most of its secrets had been steadily plundered, but the greatest – and most terrible – still lay undisturbed.’

He paused, ostensibly to cough, but probably (given he was such an old ham) to build up the tension. I noticed that he was standing in such a way that the lantern light cast a golden, rather celestial, halo about his head. He was a good performer, Solomon, even without his power.

I watched the girl too. She was frowning (as usual), but the shock of the Ring’s touch was still upon her, and she seemed willing to wait and listen.

‘When I came to these ruins,’ Solomon continued, ‘a recent earth tremor had split the surface of one of the smaller mounds. The soil had collapsed, revealing a stretch of mud-brick wall, a half-collapsed archway and – beyond – a flight of stairs leading into the ground. You can well imagine that my curiosity was aflame! I made a light, crept down into the depths and, after an incalculable descent, arrived at a broken door. Some ancient rock-fall had split it open, and whatever magic might have been upon it had long been spent. I squeezed through into the blackness—’

‘You were
so-o-o-o
jammy!’ I cried. ‘Sumerian well-rooms are notorious for traps! Ordinarily there’d have been any amount of hexes and things in there.’

‘Whether I was
lucky
,’ King Solomon said irritably, ‘I will leave to you to judge. Do not interrupt again. I squeezed inside, as I say, and found myself in a small chamber. In its centre’ – he shuddered, as at an oft-remembered horror – ‘in its centre was an iron chair, and on that chair, strapped there with ancient fastenings of rope and wire, sat the mummified body of – I cannot say whether it was a man or woman, for great terror had seized me, and all I longed for was escape. As I turned to go, I caught sight of a glint of gold upon one papery finger. In my avarice I snatched at it: the finger broke away, the Ring was in my hand. I put it on’ – he held up his hand, so that the red weal upon the finger shone bright and raw – ‘and instantly such pain came over me that I collapsed and knew no more.’