The Ring of Solomon

the Presence didn’t beat about the bush. ‘ What is your wish? ’
    It hadn’t escaped my notice that when Khaba had summoned him, the Spirit of the Ring had sounded slightly irritable not to see Solomon. Hence my clever disguise. It wasn’t perfect – perhaps my voice was slightly more squeaky than the king’s, owing in part to my rampant terror and discomfort, but I did my best. I flatter myself the old king’s mother wouldn’t have known the difference. I spoke coolly. ‘Greetings, O Great Spirit.’
    ‘ You can stop putting on that silly accent ,’ the Presence said. ‘I know your name and nature.’
    ‘Oh.’ I swallowed. ‘You do? Does it matter?’
    ‘ I am bound to obey whoever wears the Ring. No exceptions … Even you .’
    ‘Oh, good! That is good news. Hold on … Where are you off to, Ammet? Can’t stay around?’ The shadow had turned and was speeding away across the waves. I watched him go with a light and negligent smile, then addressed the Spirit of the Ring again. ‘How did you guess?’
    ‘ Aside from my ability to see through all Illusions? Solomon rarely stands over open ocean. Also, you forgot the perfume .’
    ‘Two beginner’s mistakes! Well, it’s pleasant chatting like this, Great Spirit, but—’
    ‘ What is your wish? ’
    Brief and to the point. Which was good, because I could not take the pull of the Ring much longer. Where my finger passed through the band, my essence was worn and faint and thin as a thread. Portions of my strength had already been pulled through.
    Ammet was very distant by now, a small diagonal blur that left a scud of foam on the sea behind him. He had almost reached the land.
    I said: ‘There is a certain marid rapidly retreating over there. I wish him seized this moment and given a sound drubbing.’
    ‘ It is done .’
    From nowhere, a flurry of grey shapes rose from the surf and engulfed the fugitive shadow. Sadly I couldn’t see the details, because of the distance and all the spray and splashing, but the outcry was enough to send seabirds rising from their nests up and down the coast for a satisfying number of miles.
    At length the racket finished. The shadow was a melancholy patch of greyness floating on the water.
    The shape still waited at my side. ‘ Your wish? ’
    If my essence had been strained before, the exertion of my will upon the Ring had worsened the pain considerably. I held back, unsure of what to do.
    The Presence appeared to understand my indecision. ‘ That is the nature of the Ring ,’ it said. ‘ It draws upon the energy of its user. In truth, your request was small, therefore – if you wish it – your essence could withstand a repetition .’
    ‘In that case,’ I said heartily, ‘another sound drubbing for Ammet, please.’
    While the thrashing frenzy was still ongoing, I said, ‘Great Spirit, I require a bottle, or something similar, but I haven’t one to hand. Perhaps you could assist me.’
    ‘ The sea is deep here ,’ the Presence said, ‘ but far below lies the wreck of an Egyptian ship that sank in storms three hundred years ago. It has a cargo of amphorae that once held wine. Most are empty, but are otherwise intact and have been scattered far across the sea-bed. You want one? ’
    ‘Not too big, please.’
    There was a bubbling and a frothing beneath my feet, and a green up-current of deep cold water that broke against the surface, bringing with it a great grey wine-jar, covered in weed and barnacles.
    ‘Just the job,’ I said. ‘Spirit, this will be my final request, for despite your reassurances, I think my essence will explode if I wear this Ring a moment longer. I wish the marid Ammet bound within this bottle, and the lid stoppered with lead or whatever equivalent you have to hand, and that stopper sealed with appropriate hexes and runes, and the whole returned to the bottom of the sea, where it can remain undisturbed for several thousand years, until such time as Ammet has reflected on his crimes against other spirits and, most especially, against me.’
    ‘ It is done ,’ the Presence said. ‘ And a most appropriate penalty it is. ’
    For a moment the wine-jar spun with coloured lights and I felt the bending of the planes. Somewhere amid it all, I fancy I heard the shadow’s final cry, but it might have been the seabirds calling out across the water. The jar’s neck flared bright with molten lead; saltwater hissed and steamed. Now the neck was cool, save where nine symbols of