The Ring of Solomon

anything amiss. As usual, I flexed a warty arm and tossed the stone.
    As usual, it sailed across in the sweetest of arcs to the corner of the temple where Tivoc stood.
    Or in this case didn’t stand, since he’d long since bowed and scraped and made shuffling way for Solomon to inspect the porch. And with Solomon had come his magicians, court officials, warriors, slaves and wives, each crowding close to bathe in the royal presence.
    They heard my singing. They craned their heads round. They saw the half-ton stone being lobbed towards them in the sweetest of arcs. They had time for maybe the briefest of lamentations before it squished them flat.
    The hippo in a skirt slapped its hand over its eyes.
    But Solomon just touched the Ring on his finger that was the source and secret of his power. The planes trembled. And from the earth jumped four winged marids in emerald flame, who caught and held the stone, one at each corner, a few inches from the great king’s head. 5
    Solomon touched the Ring again, and from the earth sprang nineteen afrits, who caught the exact same number of his wives mid-swoon. 6
    Then Solomon touched the Ring a third time, and from the earth leaped a posse of sturdy imps, who caught the hippo in the skirt as it was quietly slipping away into the recesses of the quarry, bound it hand and foot with thorny bonds, and dragged it back through the dirt to where the great king stood, tapping his sandalled foot and looking rather tetchy.
    And despite my trademark bravery and fortitude – famous from the deserts of Shur to the mountains of Lebanon – the hippo swallowed hard as it bumped along the ground, because when Solomon got tetchy, people tended to know about it. He had the wisdom stuff as well, it’s true, but what really got results when he wanted something done was his reputation for no-holds-barred homicidal tetchiness. That and his cursed Ring. 7
    The marids placed the block of stone gently on the earth before the king. The imps swung me across so that I came to an undignified halt, slumped against the stone. I blinked, sat upright as best I could, spat assorted pebbles out of my mouth and attempted a winning smile. A low murmur of repulsion came from the watching throng, and several wives fainted again.
    Solomon raised a hand; all sound cut off.
    This was the first time I’d got close to him, of course, and I must say he didn’t disappoint. He was everything your typical trumped-up west Asian despot could aspire to be: dark of eye and skin, long and glistening of hair, and covered with more clattering finery than a cut-price jewel stand at the bazaar. He seemed to have an Egyptian thing going too – his eyes were heavily made up with kohl just like the pharaohs; like them, he existed in a cloud of clashing oils and perfumes. That smell was another thing Beyzer should have noticed in advance.
    On his finger something shone so brightly that I was almost rendered blind.
    The great king stood over me, fingers toying with the bracelets on one arm. He breathed deeply; his face seemed pained. ‘Lowliest of the low,’ he said softly, ‘which of my servants are you?’
    ‘O Master-may-you-live-for-ever, I am Bartimaeus.’
    A hopeful pause; the regal countenance did not change.
    ‘We haven’t had the pleasure before,’ I went on, ‘but I’m sure a friendly conversation would benefit us both. Let me introduce myself. I am a spirit of notable wisdom and sobriety, who once spoke with Gilgamesh, and—’
    Solomon raised an elegant finger, and since it was the one with the Ring on it, I kind of snatched back as many of my words as I could and swallowed them down sharpish. Best just be quiet, eh? Wait for the worst.
    ‘You are one of Khaba’s troublemakers, I think,’ the king said musingly. ‘Where is Khaba?’
    This was a good question; we’d been wondering it ourselves for days. But at that moment there was a flurry amongst the courtiers, and my master himself appeared, all red of cheek and glistening of pate. He had clearly been running hard.
    ‘Great Solomon,’ he panted. ‘This visit – I did not know—’ His moist eyes widened as they alighted on me, and he gave a wolfish cry. ‘Foul slave! How dare you defy me with such a shape! Great King, stand back! Let me admonish this creature—’ And he snatched at the essence-flail in his belt.
    But Solomon held up his hand once more. ‘Be still, magician! Where were you while my edicts were being disobeyed? I shall attend to