The Ring of Solomon

facts.’
    ‘Indeed?’ Solomon gave a courteous bow. ‘It is unsurprising. We have rather sprung this on you.’ He held out the wine, and the full radiance of his smile bathed the queen; this time Balkis took the glass. ‘May I propose, then,’ he said, ‘that you accompany me for a walk about my palace, where some little work of reconstruction is going on? I can give you further details, and we can talk together about relations between our countries, which – I expect you agree – are in need of much improvement.’
    The queen’s composure had, in small measure, returned. She bowed stiffly. ‘Very well.’
    ‘In the meantime, your guard—’
    Balkis shook her head peremptorily. ‘She is no longer a guard of mine. I do not know whom she serves.’
    Just for a moment Asmira endured a keen pain, like a knife-blade in the heart. Then it faded, and with it her agitation at the queen’s arrival. To her surprise she felt quite calm again.
    She regarded the queen levelly. Balkis took a sip of wine and turned away.
    ‘In that case,’ Solomon said, smiling, ‘you will not mind, my lady, if I have a small suggestion. Asmira’ – now all the full charm and glamour of his guise was turned on her – ‘I have an offer to make you. Enter my service, come be my guard. I have seen first hand your many excellent qualities, and I now know – somewhat ironically after the events of last night – that I can trust you with my life. So, help me re-establish my rule here in Jerusalem. Be part of my more enlightened government! I will need all the help I can get in the days and weeks ahead, for my servants have been scattered, and if any of my magicians survive, they will need careful watching. Help me go forward, Asmira! Start a new life in Jerusalem! Be sure,’ he smiled, ‘that I will reward you richly.’
    At this, King Solomon put his wine glass down. ‘Now, it is high time that I attended to my most important guest. Fair Balkis, we shall take a leisurely tour, then retire to the pavilions for iced sherbet. The ice, incidentally, is brought fresh from the shoulders of Mount Lebanon; I swear you will never have tasted fresher. Please …’
    He held out his arm; the Queen of Sheba took it. Together they moved across the room, stepping delicately around the debris on the floor. They reached an arch at the far side and passed through. The rustling of their robes dwindled, the sounds of their small-talk faded. They were gone.
    Asmira and the djinni looked at one another. There was a pause.
    ‘Yep, that’s kings and queens for you,’ Bartimaeus said.

38
    U raziel, great Spirit of the Ring, wasn’t one to mess about when he had a palace to repair. Down below the tower, the work was underway. The buildings around the gardens that had sustained most damage in the fire-fight had been encased in teetering bamboo scaffolding, and scores of djinn were already scurrying up and down a maze of ladders, removing rubble, pulling out burned timbers and expunging any remaining taint of magic. From the direction of the quarry came sounds of frenzied hammering; afrits flew west towards the forests in search of logs. In the forecourts, lines of moulers 1 stood beside cement vats, stirring industriously with their tails, while in the gardens, stretching away into the blue distance, armies of imps laboured to re-seed the blackened lawns.
    Amongst it all strode Solomon, leading the Queen of Sheba by the hand.
    From where I was, up on the balcony, even Solomon and Balkis’s monumental self-regard seemed insignificant. They were simply two tiny figures in gold and white, almost indistinguishable from the straggling pack of onlookers following at their heels. 2 Balkis moved slowly, stiff-backed, the picture of brittle pride; Solomon with more of a graceful step. Now and then his arms made extravagant flourishes, no doubt as he pointed out the wonders of his gardens. On one hand there shone a little flash of gold.
    It had to be said that, given the amount of power he had at his command, Solomon was, by human standards, quite admirably restrained. Most of his actions seemed more or less designed for the common good, and he was personally magnanimous too – as Asmira and I had just found out. But, all in all, he was still a king at heart, and that meant grand and flashy. Even his casual, throwaway magnanimity to us was, in its own way, grander and flashier than all his jewels. Not that you were going to hear me complaining.
    But as