The Ring of Solomon

for the Queen of Sheba … Well.
    High on his lofty vantage point the dark-eyed Sumerian youth made a rueful face. He hauled his ragged essence off the balustrade where he’d been leaning and went inside.
    It was time for me to go.
    I found the girl sitting on one of the golden chairs in Solomon’s apartments, eating large quantities of honey cake with all the delicacy and restraint of a famished timber-wolf. 3 She didn’t stop when I came in, but went on scoffing. I sat in a chair opposite and appraised her properly for the first time since my return.
    Physically she had the right number of arms and legs remaining; otherwise she was undeniably the worse for wear. Her clothes were torn and scorched, her skin bruised, her lip a little swollen; in places, her hair had been discoloured green by a blast of magic fire. None of this could exactly have been considered a plus, yet it wasn’t the whole story by any means. As she took a long slug of Solomon’s wine, then wiped her sticky hands deliberately on one of his silken cushions, a perceptive onlooker (me) could also note that she seemed a good deal more vibrant and alive than when first I’d seen her, so stiff and cold upon her camel in the gorge that day.
    Badly as Asmira’s exterior had been battered by the night’s events, I guessed that a chain inside her had also been broken – and this breakage wasn’t a bad thing.
    She took a couple of grapes and an almond bun. ‘Still down there, are they?’
    ‘Yes, busily doing the tour …’ I narrowed my handsome eyes meditatively. ‘Is it me, or is your good queen Balkis something of a sour old trout?’
    Asmira gave me a crooked grin. ‘I must say she wasn’t as … generous as I’d hoped.’
    ‘That’s putting it mildly.’
    ‘Well, what can you expect?’ The girl flicked pastry off her lap. ‘She sent me out to do a nice clean assassination and steal the Ring. Now she finds me praised to the skies by Solomon, the Ring still on his finger, and herself summoned to Jerusalem like a dumb imp on a leash.’
    It was a fair analysis. ‘He’ll win her over,’ I pointed out. ‘He always does.’
    ‘Oh, she’ll forgive Solomon,’ Asmira said. ‘She won’t forgive me.’
    She went back to her cakes. There was silence for a while.
    ‘Good job you got the offer, then,’ I said.
    She looked up, chewing. ‘What?’
    ‘Solomon’s offer. Richly rewarding you for helping him move forward with his new, progressive government, or whatever it was. All sounds a bit woolly to me. Still, I’m sure you’ll be happy.’ I stared up at the ceiling.
    ‘You seem disapproving,’ the girl said.
    I scowled. ‘Well, it’s just him using his Charm on you, isn’t it? Hooking you with that sparkly, one-on-one eye-contact stuff – all those white-toothed smiles, that business about trusting you with his life … That’s all very fine, but where will it end? First you’re a guard. Then a “special adviser”. Next thing you know you’ll be in his harem. All I can say is, if that happens, make damn sure you don’t sleep in the bunk below the wife from Moab.’
    ‘I’m not going in his harem, Bartimaeus.’
    ‘Well, you say that now , but—’
    ‘I’m not taking up his offer.’ She took another swig of wine.
    ‘What?’ Now it was my turn to look bemused. ‘You’re turning him down?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘But he’s Solomon. And … leaving aside what I just said, he is grateful.’
    ‘I know that,’ Asmira said. ‘But I’m not entering his service, even so. I’m not going to simply swap one master for another.’
    I frowned. That chain inside her had snapped, all right. ‘Are you sure about this?’ I said. ‘Yes, he’s a conceited autocrat; yes, he’s got a mania for collecting wives. But he’d still make a better boss than Balkis by a long chalk. For a start, you wouldn’t be a sl— you wouldn’t be a hereditary guard. There’d be a lot more freedom for you – and gold too, if that tickles your fancy.’
    ‘It doesn’t. I don’t want to stay in Jerusalem.’
    ‘Why not? Thanks to that Ring, it’s the centre of the world.’
    ‘But it isn’t Sheba. It isn’t my home.’ And suddenly in her eyes there was that same fire that I’d noticed the night before, burning brightly still, but with a gentler flame. All its anger, all its zealotry had gone. She smiled at me. ‘I wasn’t lying to you – what I said last night. Being a guard, doing what I did – yes, I was serving the