The Ring of Solomon

it to be well deserved. Back in the storeroom, Solomon had expressed forgiveness – but that had been when both were on the verge of death. Now, with the Ring back in his hands and his authority restored, it would be a different matter. Beyond the tower, his palace was in ruins, his people terrorized. Most of his magicians were dead. Justice demanded retribution.
    She knew all this, but it did not alarm her. She felt peaceful and calm inside.
    The rustling of a golden gown drew near. Asmira did not look up.
    ‘You have offered me the Ring and your apologies,’ the voice of Solomon said, ‘and the first of these I accept – with reluctance, for it is a fearful burden.’
    Asmira felt cool fingers brushing against hers, and the pain in her hands died away. When she raised her head, Solomon was placing the Ring upon his finger. A flicker of discomfort passed his ravaged features as he did so, then was gone.
    ‘Stand up,’ he said. Asmira stood. Beside her the shadow gave a shimmer and changed into the handsome, dark-eyed youth. She and Bartimaeus stood before the king, waiting for his word.
    ‘Your second offering,’ Solomon said, ‘I do not accept so readily. Too much damage has been caused. In a moment we shall come to my judgement. But first …’ Closing his eyes, he touched the Ring and spoke a quiet word. A blaze of light consumed him, died away; the king stood before them all transformed. His face was clear of soot, but also of its web of lines; his hair, smoothed down once more, was dark and black and glistening with vitality. He was the youthful image of the mural on the palace wall, and it was all Asmira could do not to fall on her knees again.
    ‘Oh come,’ Solomon said, ‘you know it’s an Illusion.’ Grimacing a little, he turned the Ring; at once the Presence stood amongst them. ‘Uraziel,’ he said, ‘I’m back.’
    ‘ I never doubted it .’
    ‘We have a little work to do.’
    ‘ Where shall we begin? ’
    Solomon cast a glance at the magician on the floor. Khaba was groaning now, writhing a little to and fro. ‘You may remove this object first of all. Place him in the dungeons below the tower. I shall attend upon him presently.’
    A blaze of light: Khaba was gone.
    ‘His cringing slaves may be dismissed; I have no grudge against them.’
    More dazzlements: the four monkey demons vanished where they cowered.
    King Solomon nodded. ‘My palace, I believe, needs some repair; we must steel ourselves, Uraziel. Survey the damage, calculate the spirits that will be required and await my signal. I have business to attend to here.’
    The Presence departed, jolting the air. Asmira’s ears rang; she wiped her bloody nose upon her sleeve.
    She and Bartimaeus stood alone before the king.
    ‘Now,’ King Solomon said, ‘to my judgement. Bartimaeus of Uruk, you first of all. Your crimes are legion. You have caused the deaths of dozens of my spirits, you have spread chaos and disaster across Jerusalem. It was by your advice and through your actions that this girl was able to get access to the Ring. Not only that, you have at all times displayed extraordinary insolence towards my royal person. Your hippo guise—’
    ‘No, no, that was perfectly coincidental! It looks nothing like your wife!’
    ‘– showed appalling disregard for the sanctity of my temple. That was what I was going to say.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘As if this were not enough,’ the king went on after a thoughtful pause, ‘you appear to have encouraged this girl to throw the Ring into the sea …’
    ‘Only to keep it out of the clutches of your enemies!’ the djinni cried. ‘Far better to lose it in some watery deep than have Khaba or the Queen of Sheba enjoy its power instead of you! That was my thinking. If great Solomon can’t have it, I said to myself, why, let the silent coral guard it until the end of time, when—’
    ‘Stop babbling, Bartimaeus.’ Solomon pursed his lips. ‘In all these things, you are clearly culpable. However , you also are a slave, forced to carry out another’s will, and in truth, despite whatever temptations I may sorely have, I cannot place the blame on you.’
    The djinni exhaled with immense relief. ‘You can’t? Phew. Now that’s what I call wisdom.’ He gave Asmira a sharp nudge in the ribs. ‘So, then … over to you.’
    ‘Asmira of Sheba,’ King Solomon said. ‘In your case there is no need to recite the full list of your deeds. The harm you have caused me is very great,