The Ring of Solomon

cat said, setting a warning paw upon her knee.
    ‘It’s all so nice …’
    ‘That’s because he’s put a Glamour on it, the better for snaring the unwary. Take one bite of that food, peek just for a moment into the orb, dip so much as a little pinkie in that water and you’d still be stuck here come the dawn, when Solomon would amble in to find you. Best not look at it at all.’
    Asmira chewed her lip. ‘But it’s all so nice …’
    ‘If I were you,’ the cat went on, ‘I’d be checking out the murals on the wall. Look, there’s old Rameses in his chariot and Hammurabi in his tiered pleasure garden; there’s a not very accurate depiction of Gilgamesh … where’s his broken nose, I want to know? Ah yes,’ the sand cat said. ‘All the greats are here. Typical pad of a typical despot, obsessed with being bigger and better than the ones who went before him. This is where Solomon sits and plans his conquests of places like Sheba, I’ll be bound.’
    Asmira had still been gazing at the coils of fragrant steam rising softly from the pool, but at the djinni’s words she gave a start, and her fingers clenched upon her dagger. She tore herself free from the enchanted scene and stared at the cat with hot, befuddled eyes.
    ‘ That’s better,’ Bartimaeus said. ‘Here’s what I suggest. There are four arches out of here, two to the right, two to the left. All seem the same. I say we take them one by one. I’ll go first. You come after. Look at me the whole time. Nothing else, mind, or the Glamour’s going to get you. Think you can cope with that, or shall I say it again?’
    Asmira scowled. ‘Of course I can cope with it. I’m not an idiot.’
    ‘And yet, in so many ways, you are.’ With that, the cat was off, winding between the couches and the golden tables. Asmira, cursing, hurried along behind. At the edges of her vision the shimmering enticements winked and sparkled like exquisite memories of a dream, but she ignored them, keeping her eyes firmly fixed upon—
    ‘Could you please lower your tail a little?’ she hissed.
    ‘It’s keeping your mind off the Glamour, isn’t it?’ the cat said. ‘Quit complaining. OK, here’s the first arch. I’m going to take a peek … Oh!’ It ducked back in a flurry, with its tail fluffed out. ‘ He’s there! ’ he whispered. ‘Take a look – but do it carefully .’
    Heart pounding against her chest, Asmira peered round the nearest pillar of the arch. Beyond was a circular room, bare and unadorned, with marble columns set into the wall. At its centre was a raised platform; high above this rose a dome of glass, through which the constellations were in radiant display.
    Standing on the platform was a man.
    He had his back to the arch, and his face was hidden, but Asmira knew him from the mural she had seen upon the wall of the Magicians’ Hall. He wore a silken robe that descended to the floor; this was decorated with spiralling designs of woven gold. His dark hair hung loose upon his shoulders. His head was raised, and he was looking up towards the stars in silent contemplation. His hands were loosely clasped behind his back.
    On one of his fingers was a ring.
    Asmira had ceased to breathe. Without taking her eyes off the silent king, she drew her dagger from her belt. He was fifteen yards distant, certainly no more. The time had come. She would strike him through the heart with a single blow, and Sheba would be saved. Sheba would be saved . A bead of sweat ran down her forehead and trickled along the contours of her nose.
    She flicked the dagger into the air, caught it by its down-turned tip.
    She pulled her arm back.
    Still the king gazed peaceably at the boundless stars.
    Something was tugging at her tunic. She looked down. The sand cat was there, gesturing urgently towards the other room. She shook her head and raised the dagger.
    The tugging came again, hard enough to spoil her aim. Uttering a silent scream of vexation, Asmira allowed herself to be pulled back round the corner of the arch, into the outer chamber. She bent low and glared at the cat.
    ‘ What? ’ she breathed.
    ‘Something’s not right.’
    ‘What do you mean, “not right”? Isn’t it Solomon?’
    ‘I … don’t know. If it’s an Illusion, it’s not one I can see through. It’s just …’
    ‘Just what?’
    ‘I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.’
    Asmira stared at the cat. She straightened up. ‘I’m going to do it.’
    ‘No! Wait.’
    ‘Shh