The Ring of Solomon

distance, and some vultures circling lazily. No other survivors met the eye.
    Someone else I couldn’t see was the fugitive Edomite magician. It struck me suddenly that he would be useful to bring back to Jerusalem alive. Solomon would be interested in hearing at first hand the reasons for the bandits’ activities …
    The girl (who still hadn’t thanked us) was sitting on her couch, regarding Faquarl and me with her big dark eyes. I addressed her curtly. ‘I’m looking for one of the bandits who attacked your party. Came springing down the rock-face here. You must have seen him. Mind telling me which way he went – if it isn’t too much trouble?’
    With a languid gesture, the girl indicated a large granite boulder on the opposite side of the road. Two feet projected from behind it. I hurried over, to discover the Edomite lying there, a silver-bladed dagger protruding neatly from the centre of his forehead. The silver’s aura made me nauseous; nevertheless, I shook him anxiously, in case he was just dazed. It was no good. Bang went the live witness I was hoping to take back to Solomon.
    I looked towards the girl, hands on hips. ‘Did you do this?’
    ‘I am a priestess of the Temple of the Sun in blessed Himyar. That man’s demons destroyed my fellow travellers. Should I have let him live?’
    ‘Well, a little bit longer would have been nice. Solomon would have wanted to meet him.’ Annoyed as I was, I looked at the girl with a certain grudging respect. Priestess of the Sun or not, skewering a moving target without getting off her camel wasn’t bad going, though I had no intention of admitting it.
    Faquarl had been regarding the girl as well, in a rather thoughtful manner. He nodded in her direction. ‘Where did she say she was from?’
    The girl overheard; she spoke in ringing tones. ‘I say again, O demons, that I am a priestess of the Sun and representative of—’
    ‘She’s from Himyar.’
    ‘Where’s that?’
    ‘Arabia someplace.’
    ‘– the Great and Royal House of Himyar! I speak for the queen and all her people, and we demand—’
    ‘I see …’ Faquarl beckoned me aside. We moved off a little way. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said softly. ‘If she’s not an Israelite, then she’s not covered by the protective clauses, is she?’ 1
    I rubbed my beardy chin. ‘True …’
    ‘And she’s not set foot in Jerusalem, either.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Plus she’s young, she’s appetizing—’
    ‘Demons! I demand a word!’
    ‘ Very appetizing,’ I agreed. ‘Good set of lungs on her too.’
    ‘And since, Bartimaeus, since we’re both a little jaded after all our hard work—’
    ‘Demons! Attend to me!’
    ‘Since we’re both, I might go so far as to say, a little peckish —’
    ‘Demons—’
    ‘Hold on a minute, Faquarl …’ I turned to address the Arabian girl. ‘Would you mind not using that word?’ I called. ‘“Demon” is an extremely pejorative term. 2 It offends me. The correct way to address either of us would be something along the lines of “Revered djinni” or “Masterful spirit”. All right? Thank you.’
    The girl’s eyes opened wide, but she said nothing. Which was a relief.
    ‘Sorry, Faquarl. Where were we?’
    ‘We were both a little peckish, Bartimaeus. So, what do you say? No one’s going to know , are they? Then we can fly back to our master and bask in our triumph. We’ll all be on Temple Mount by nightfall, sitting cosily around the fire. Meanwhile Khaba will be restored to Solomon’s good graces, and he’ll call off that shadow of his and save your sorry skin. How’s that sound to you?’
    It didn’t sound at all bad, particularly the bit about the shadow. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘Bagsy her haunches.’
    ‘Now that’s not fair. Who killed more utukku today?’
    ‘You can have the pick of the rest of her. And I’ll throw in the camel too.’
    Bickering pleasantly, we turned back towards the girl, to discover her looking down upon us from on high with an expression so thunderous that even Faquarl flinched. She had pulled her shawl back from her head, so that her hair fell loose about her slender neck. Her face was fearsomely serene. Her slim arms were tightly folded, her fingers tapped pointedly upon her sleeve. Slight as she was, with badly singed clothes and dishevelled hair, sitting as she undoubtedly was upon an ugly camel beneath a sagging canopy, she still had enough force of personality to bring us both up