The Ring of Solomon

swarm of little specks, black and silent and moving very fast. Like a plague of bees or flies they came, like a curl of smoke, growing thick, then thin, then thick again, and always twisting, spiralling down towards the ground; and though the distance they travelled did not appear to be so very great, yet it seemed to Asmira to take an age. And all at once, as if an unseen barrier had suddenly been penetrated, there broke upon her a rush of sound like a sea of sand poured down upon the Earth: it was the whispering of the demons’ wings.
    The specks grew large, and starlight shone upon their teeth and claws and beaks, and on jagged weapons held in tails and hands, until the sky above the palace gardens was black with hovering forms and the stars themselves were utterly blocked out.
    The army waited. There was a sudden silence.
    Asmira felt a tapping on her shoulder.
    She looked – straight into the eyes of the handsome youth who hung beside her in the shadow’s grip.
    ‘ Now see what you’ve done?’ he said reproachfully.
    Grief and shame engulfed her. ‘Bartimaeus – I’m so sorry.’
    ‘Oh, well, that makes everything all right, doesn’t it?’ the youth said. ‘The legions of the Other Place unleashed, death and destruction about to rain down in great profusion on this portion of the Earth, Khaba the Cruel enthroned in bloody glory, and Bartimaeus of Uruk soon to meet some dismal end or other – but hey, at least you’re sorry. I thought for a moment it was going to be a bad day.’
    ‘I’m sorry ,’ she said again. ‘Please, I never thought it would end like this.’ She stared up at the solid mass of demons overhead. ‘And … Bartimaeus, I’m frightened.’
    ‘Surely not. You? You’re a bold, bad guard.’
    ‘I never thought—’
    ‘Doesn’t matter now, does it, one way or the other? Oh, look – the madman’s giving orders. Who do you think’s going to get it first? I bet the magicians. Yep. Look at them go.’
    Standing atop the broken parapet, with his spindly arms outstretched, Khaba had uttered a shrill command. At once a break opened in the layer of demons covering the sky; a coil of rushing forms descended in a great slow spiral. Below, in the shrouded darkness of the gardens, the magicians’ slaves flung themselves into action. Carpets zigzagged in all directions, breaking towards the palace walls in an effort to make the open ground beyond. But the descending demons were too fast. The spiral fractured – black shapes exploded left and right, swooped down upon the fugitives, who, with desperate cries, summoned their own demons to the fight.
    ‘Here come the palace guards,’ Bartimaeus remarked. ‘Bit late, but I suppose they don’t really want to die.’
    Bright flashes of magic – mauves, yellows, pinks and blues – exploded all across the gardens and the palace roofs as the assembled defenders of the palace engaged with Khaba’s horde. Magicians screamed, carpets vanished in balls of light; demons dropped like fiery stones, crashed through domes and rooftops, and tumbled, grappling in twos or threes, into the fiery waters of the lakes.
    On the parapet Khaba gave an exultant cry. ‘So it must begin! Solomon’s works are ended! Destroy the palace! Jerusalem will fall! Soon Karnak will rise anew, and become again the capital of the world!’
    Far above Asmira the shadow’s mouth was open in exultant parody of its master. ‘Yes, great Khaba, yes!’ it called. ‘Let the city burn!’
    It seemed to Asmira that the grip upon her waist had loosened markedly. The shadow was no longer focused on the prisoners in its care. She stared at Khaba’s back with sudden fixed attention. How far away was he? Ten feet, maybe twelve. Certainly no more.
    A sudden calm detachment came over her. She took a slow, deep breath. Her arm shifted stealthily upward; her hand quested for her belt.
    ‘Bartimaeus—’ she said.
    ‘I wish I had some popcorn,’ the djinni said. ‘It’s a good show, this, if you forget we’re going to be part of the second act. Hey – not the jade tower! I bloody built that!’
    ‘Bartimaeus,’ Asmira said again.
    ‘No, you don’t have to say anything, remember? You’re sorry. You’re really sorry. You couldn’t be more sorry. We’ve established that.’
    ‘Shut up,’ she snarled. ‘We can fix this. Look, see how close he is? We can—’
    The youth shrugged. ‘Uh-uh. I can’t touch Khaba. No magical attacks, remember? Plus he’s got the