The Ring of Solomon

distorting them into softly melting dreamscapes, and they might well have done the same with me, given half a chance. All in all it would have been much more comfy to head up to the clearer skies above, but I resisted this for now. The smog offered concealment, and perhaps helped muffle the aura of the Ring. 3
    Both these qualities were essential if I was to survive for any length of time.
    I hadn’t seen the shadow yet, but could hear the beating of his wings advancing through the smoke. I had to shake him off. The phoenix darted between two tumbling walls to a place where the smog was thickest, ducked sideways through a ruined window, shot along the length of a burning gallery, and hung high against the rafters, listening.
    Nothing but the creak of roof timbers. Ancient statues – heroes, goddesses, animals and djinn – stood blackening amid the flames.
    The phoenix cocked its head hopefully. Perhaps I’d lost him. With luck Ammet had blundered onwards through the smog and set off westwards to the coast, following my assumed trajectory. Maybe if I left the palace to the north, then veered west over the cedar forests, I might yet get to the sea.
    I dropped down, flitted along the hall, keeping as close as possible to the fires and smoke. At the end of the gallery I made a right into the Sumerian Annexe, flanked by long, cold stony lines of ancient priest-kings that I’d known and served. 4 There at the end was a vast squared window, from which I could break out to the north. The phoenix put on a sudden spurt –
    – and thus narrowly avoided being struck by the Detonation that destroyed the floor behind me. One of the statues suddenly shifted, unfolded itself; the Illusion that hid the shadow was cast off like a cloak. Clawing hands reached out, tore my burning tail-feathers loose as I twisted in mid-air. I accelerated away along the hall in a plume of orange flame, zigzagging desperately between the swiping ribbon arms.
    ‘Bartimaeus!’ the soft voice called behind me. ‘Give up! Throw down the Ring and I will spare your life!’
    I didn’t answer, which was impolite, I know. But then again, my beak was full. A moment later I burst through the window and shot out into the dark.
    How do you spend your life-or-death chases? In a state of numb bewilderment? Perhaps in continuous toe-tightening panic, or with occasional outbursts of gibbering fear? Reasonable responses, all. Personally I use them to think. They’re good that way. Everything’s quiet, you’re on your own, and all your other little problems helpfully fade from view as you ponder the essentials. Staying alive is top of the list, of course, but it’s not the only thing. Sometimes you get a bit of perspective on other matters too.
    So, as I raced west through the dying minutes of the night, with the hills and valleys rolling in waves beneath me, and Khaba’s shadow speeding at my heels, I ran through the situation I was in.
    Here’s how it looked, mid-flight.
    Ammet was going to catch me, and he was going to catch me soon. Fast as a phoenix is, you can’t keep up the pace for ever. This is doubly true when you’ve recently been knocked out by a Convulsion, and triply true when you’re holding an object of such power that your beak is well and truly melting. 5 The marid – bigger than me and dense with magic – had lost ground at the start of the chase, but he was making it up now as I began to tire. Whenever I looked over my shoulder I could see his ragged knot of dark-on-darkness, half a valley back and gaining.
    It was safe to assume I wasn’t going to reach the sea.
    Once Ammet caught up with me, the consequences would be terrible. First, and most important, I’d be dead. Second, Khaba would have the Ring again. He’d only had it for about five minutes so far, and already Solomon’s palace lay in ruins, which gave you a clue to his proposed governmental style. Given time and opportunity, like an angry infant in a cake shop, Khaba was going to systematically wreak untold destruction on all the wailing peoples of the Earth. More importantly, I’d be dead. Perhaps I already mentioned that.
    The phoenix flew on. Periodically bright flashes lit up the rushing landscape as Ammet unleashed magical attacks behind me; I veered to the side, dropped low, performed aeronautical contortions as the Spasms and Fluxes whizzed past, blew trees and hillsides into tumbling rubble.
    It was all the girl’s fault, of course. If she’d taken my