The Ring of Solomon

the queen during ceremonies in the temples. But the Queen of Sheba herself had never once spoken to her, never once acknowledged her existence – until the night the tower burned.
    Beyond the window, smoke still drifted on the air; from the Hall of the Dead came the sound of mourning drums. Asmira sat in the royal chamber, awkwardly holding a cup of wine and staring at the floor.
    ‘Asmira, my dear,’ the queen said. ‘Do you know who carried out this dreadful act?’
    Asmira raised her eyes. The queen was sitting so close to her their knees almost touched. It was an unheard-of proximity. Her heart thudded in her chest. She lowered her gaze again. ‘They say, my lady,’ she stammered, ‘they say it was King Solomon.’
    ‘Do they say why?’
    ‘No, my lady.’
    ‘Asmira, you may look on me when you speak. I am your queen, yes, but we are both of us daughters of the Sun.’
    When Asmira looked up once more, the queen was smiling. The sight made her a little light-headed; she took a sip of wine.
    ‘The First Guard has often spoken about your qualities,’ the queen went on. ‘Quick, strong and clever, she says. Unafraid of danger. Resourceful, almost reckless … And pretty too – I can see that for myself. Tell me, what do you know of Solomon, Asmira? What stories have you heard?’
    Asmira’s face was burning and her throat felt tight. Perhaps it was the smoke. She had been marshalling the water-chains below the tower. ‘I have heard the usual tales, my lady. He has a palace of jade and gold, built in a single night with his magic Ring. He controls twenty thousand spirits, each more terrible than the last. He has seven hundred wives – and is therefore clearly a man of abominable wickedness. He—’
    The queen raised her hand. ‘I have heard this too.’ Her smile faded. ‘Asmira, Solomon desires the wealth of Sheba. One of his demons carried out tonight’s attack, and when the moon is new – which will be in thirteen days – the full host of the Ring will come here to destroy us all.’
    Asmira’s eyes opened wide in horror; she said nothing.
    ‘Unless, that is,’ the queen went on, ‘I pay a ransom. Needless to say, I do not wish to do so. That would be an affront to both Sheba’s honour and my own. But what is the alternative? The power of the Ring is too great to withstand. Only if Solomon himself is killed might the danger pass. But that is almost impossible, since he never leaves Jerusalem, a city that is too well-guarded for armies or magicians to hope to enter. And yet …’ The queen sighed heavily and stared out of the window. ‘And yet I wonder. I wonder whether someone travelling alone, someone with sufficient intelligence and skill, someone who seems harmless, and yet is not so – whether that person might find a way to get access to the king … And when she is alone with him, she might— Ah, but it would be a hard task indeed.’
    ‘My lady …’ Asmira’s voice quivered with eagerness, as well as fear at what she was about to say. ‘My lady, if there’s any way that I can help—’
    The Queen of Sheba smiled benignly. ‘My dear, you need say no more. I already know your faith. I know your love for me. Yes, dear Asmira, thank you for suggesting it. I do believe you can.’
    The rising sun hung low above the eastern desert. When Asmira stirred and turned to face the west again, she found the port of Eilat had become a clear white scattering of buildings, and the sea an azure strip, to which tiny white things clung.
    Her eyes narrowed. Ships belonging to the wicked Solomon. From now on she must take care.
    She picked up the silver dagger from where it lay beside her bag and tucked it in her belt, pushing it out of sight beneath her cloak. As she did so, her gaze strayed high above: she saw the outline of the waning moon, still hanging frail and ghost-like in the blue. The sight gave her fresh urgency. Twelve days remaining! And Solomon was far away. Picking up her bag, she jogged swiftly down the hill.

9
    ‘W atch where you drop those chippings,’ Faquarl snapped. ‘That last shower went down my neck.’
    ‘Sorry.’
    ‘And you might wear a longer skirt while you’re about it. I’m afraid to look up.’
    I paused in my chiselling. ‘Can I help it if this is the current fashion?’
    ‘You’re eclipsing the sun. Move along a bit, at least.’
    We scowled at each other. I moved a grudging inch to my left; Faquarl moved a resentful inch to his right. We went