The Ring of Solomon

been, mainly because it’s all we’re ever asked to do. 3 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. 4
    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. 5
    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. 6
    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,