The Ring of Solomon

Now—’
    A tousle-bearded magician raised his hand. ‘Great King, forgive me! I too am presently somewhat stretched.’
    The man beside him nodded. ‘And I!’
    Now the vizier, Hiram, ventured to speak out. ‘Master, the deserts are vast and the resources of we, your servants, are limited. Is this not a time when you might consider aiding us? When, possibly, you might—’ He halted.
    Solomon’s kohl-rimmed eyes blinked slowly, like a cat’s. ‘Go on.’
    Hiram swallowed. Already he had said too much. ‘When … perhaps you might consider using’ – his voice was very faint – ‘the Ring?’
    The king’s expression darkened. The knuckles of his left hand gripped white upon the arm-rest of the throne. ‘You question my commands, Hiram,’ Solomon said softly.
    ‘Great Master, please! I meant no offence!’
    ‘You dare pronounce how my power might be used.’
    ‘No! I spoke without thinking!’
    ‘Can it be you truly wish for this?’ The left hand shifted; on the little finger a flash of gold and black obsidian caught the light. Below the throne the lion-afrits drew back their lips and made snapping noises in their throats.
    ‘No, Master! Please!’ The vizier cowered to the floor; his mouse sought concealment in his robes. Across the hall the assembled watchers murmured and drew back.
    The king reached out, turned the Ring upon his finger. There was a thud of sound, a buffet of air. A darkness fell across the hall, and in the centre of that darkness a Presence stood tall and silent beside the throne. Four hundred and thirty-seven people fell flat upon their faces as if they had been struck.
    In the shadows of the throne Solomon’s face was terrible, contorted. His voice echoed as if from a cavern in the earth: ‘I say to all of you: Be careful what you desire .’
    He turned the Ring again upon his finger. At once the Presence vanished; the hall was filled with sudden light and there were birds singing in the gardens.
    Slowly, unsteadily, magicians, courtiers, wives and supplicants got to their collective feet.
    Solomon’s face was calm again. ‘Send your demons out into the desert,’ he said. ‘Capture the brigands as I requested.’ He took a sip of wine, and looked towards the gardens where, as so often, faint music could now be heard, though the musicians were never seen. ‘One other thing, Hiram,’ he said at last. ‘You have not yet told me of Sheba. Has the messenger returned? Have we heard the queen’s response?’
    The vizier had risen and was dabbing at a trickle of blood coming from his nose. He swallowed; the day was not going well for him. ‘Master, we have.’
    ‘And?’
    He cleared his throat. ‘Once again, unbelievably, the queen rejects your offer of marriage and refuses to be numbered among your exquisite consorts.’ The vizier paused to allow the expected gasps and flutterings from among the assembled wives. ‘Her explanation, such as it is, is this: as the actual ruler of her nation, rather than the mere daughter of its king’ – further gasps sounded at this juncture, and several snorts – ‘she cannot possibly leave it for a life of leisure, even to bask in your glorious radiance in Jerusalem. She deeply regrets this inability to comply, and offers her eternal friendship, and that of Sheba, to you and your people until, and I quote’ – he checked the scroll once more – ‘“the towers of Marib fall and the eternal Sun goes out” … Essentially, Master, it’s another No.’
    The vizier finished and, without daring to look towards the king, made a great business of rolling up the scroll and stuffing it back into his robes. The crowd stood frozen, watching the silent figure on the throne.
    Then Solomon laughed. He took a long draught of wine. ‘So that is the word from Sheba, is it?’ he said. ‘Well, then. We will have to consider how Jerusalem responds.’

5
    N ight had fallen and the city of Marib was silent. The Queen of Sheba sat alone in her chamber, reading from her sacred texts. As she reached for her wine cup, she heard a fluttering at the window. A bird stood there, an eagle, shaking flecks of ice off its feathers and regarding her intently with its cold, black eyes. The queen watched it for a moment; then, because she understood the illusions of the spirits of the air, said: ‘If you come in peace, step inside, and be welcome.’
    At this the eagle hopped off the sill and became a slim young man, golden-haired and handsome, with eyes