The Ring of Solomon

Through her tears she saw the shadow’s mouth curl open, showing ranks of slender teeth – then she was tossed sideways through the air and caught again; now she hung next to Bartimaeus, tight beneath the shadow’s arm.
    ‘Khaba!’ Hiram cried in a voice of thunder. ‘Attend, or we attack!’
    Still holding Asmira and the djinni, the shadow extended across the balcony. Its free arm was held outstretched, its fingers long and curled. The arm shot forth, flashing like a whip. A slice, a snick. Hiram’s head fell one way, his body fell the other. Both toppled silently from the carpet and plunged into the dark.
    Hiram’s white-winged demon gave a shout of joy and vanished. The carpet, suddenly unattended, spiralled swiftly out of sight.
    Somewhere in the air above the garden, one of the other magicians screamed.
    The shadow drew back upon the balcony and turned in keen attention to its master, who, bent double, had uttered a long, low cry.
    ‘Dear Master, are you hurt? What can I do?’
    Khaba did not answer at first; he was locked in upon himself, head lowered to his knees. Suddenly his head jerked up. His body slowly rose. His face was contorted, his mouth spread in a ghastly rictus smile.
    ‘Nothing, dear Ammet. You need do nothing more.’
    He held up his hand. Upon its finger was a glint of gold.
    Beside her, Asmira heard Bartimaeus give a groan. ‘Oh great,’ he said. ‘I would happen to wake up now .’

33
    T he Egyptian turned away to face the night. Beyond him, several magicians were visible in the starlight, standing stiff and hesitant on their carpets above the void. One called out a challenge, but Khaba did not respond. Instead he held his hand aloft and, with a slow, deliberate movement, turned the Ring upon his finger.
    As in Solomon’s chamber, Asmira felt her ears pop, as if she had fallen into deep water. At her side Bartimaeus drew breath in through his teeth. Even the shadow that held them took a slow step back.
    A Presence stood in the air beside the balcony, man-sized but not a man, darker than the sky.
    ‘ You are not Solomon. ’
    The voice was neither loud, nor angry, but mild and calm. Yet it seemed slightly resentful. At its sound Asmira jerked back as if she had been struck. She felt blood trickling from her nose.
    Khaba gave an anguished yelp that might have been laughter. ‘No indeed, slave ! You have another master now. Here is my first command. Protect me from all magical attack.’
    ‘ It is done ,’ the Presence said.
    ‘So then …’ Khaba swallowed hard; he drew himself up straight. ‘It is time to show the world that things have changed,’ he cried, ‘that there is a new power in Jerusalem. There shall be no more of Solomon’s indolence! The Ring shall be used !’
    At this, several of the hovering magicians acted: gleaming shafts of magic darted across the gulf to strike the Egyptian down. As the bolts converged upon the parapet, they broke asunder; each became a delicate drift of coloured sparks that dispersed like grass-seeds on the wind.
    ‘Slave of the Ring!’ Khaba cried. ‘I notice that my colleagues Elbesh and Nisroch were particularly swift to strike. Let them be the swiftest to be punished!’
    Two carpets, two magicians exploded in balls of bright green flame; smoking twists of debris fell towards the trees.
    ‘ It is done .’
    ‘Slave of the Ring!’ Khaba’s voice was louder now; he seemed to be mastering his pain. ‘Bring forth for me a multitude as great as when Tuthmosis marched on Nimrud! Greater! Let the heavens open and my army come forth at my command! Let them rain down destruction on all those in this palace who dared to raise their hands against me! Let—’ He broke off with a gasp, looked into the sky.
    ‘ It is done ,’ the figure said, and vanished.
    Asmira’s ears had popped again; aside from this, she scarcely noticed the Presence go. She, like Khaba, like all the magicians on their carpets, like the spirits who kept them suspended there, was gazing up at a point east of the gardens, high above the palace wall. Here a hole had opened in the sky, a fissure like a fiery wheel tilted on its side. The fires extended like spokes towards its centre and burned with great ferocity, yet no sound of the inferno descended to the Earth, and nor was its fearsome brightness reflected on any of the domes or trees below. The hole was there, and yet not there – near, yet very distant, a window on another world.
    Through it now flew a