The Ring of Solomon

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. 7 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;