The Ring of Solomon

said. ‘It’s just you and me now.’

    1 At Solomon’s behest every summons in Jerusalem, made by no matter which magician, included within it certain strict clauses forbidding us to harm the local population. This wasn’t anything new in principle – all the old city states of Mesopotamia had used similar injunctions – but they’d been confined to citizens by birth, so there was always the possibility of snacking on a visiting trader, slave or captive on the side. Solomon, in his wisdom, had expanded the clauses to include anyone who set foot within the city walls, which made for an admirably inclusive municipal environment, and also a good number of grumpy, hungry djinn.
    2 Demon : the actual term used at this juncture was in fact the Old Akkadian word r bisu , which in its origin simply means ‘supernatural being’. But as with the Greek daimon (still several centuries in the future), it was all too often employed as an abusive generality, as likely to refer to a pimple-bottomed imp as to a debonair djinni-about-town.
    3 Great abyss : not the most accurate or flattering description of the Other Place that I’ve ever heard, but a very common misconception. In fact our home is nothing like an abyss, having no ‘depth’ to speak of (nor any other dimensions), and not being at all dark either. It’s just like humans to impose their own imagined terrors upon us, when in fact all true horrors are found in your world.
    4 Nefertiti : principal wife of the pharaoh Akhenaten, 1340s BC. Started out bringing up the children, ended up running the empire. Looked damn good in a headdress too. Let’s just say you didn’t mess with her.
    5 Mortuary imps : small, pudgy, white-skinned spirits employed by the priests of Egypt to help them mummify the bodies of the great and good. Specializing in all the icky bits of the process, such as brain removal and filling up the canopic jars, they tasted abominably of embalming fluid. So I’ve been told.
    6 Building sites and battlefields : sometimes, indeed, we were forced to hop between one and the other at a moment’s notice, which could be inconvenient. I once fought three ghuls single-handed in a sudden skirmish at the gates of Uruk. They wielded spiked maces, flaming spears and double-headed silver battle-axes. Me? I had a trowel.
    7 Only bigger, brawnier and more blood-stained.

17
    ‘W ell,’ the demon said. ‘It’s just you and me now.’
    Asmira sat rigid in her saddle, feeling the sweat trickling down the back of her neck. Her heart was pounding so hard against her ribs she felt sure the demon must see it, or at least notice the trembling of her hands, which she had placed in her lap for that very reason. Never let them see your fear – that was what the guard-mothers had taught her; let your foes think you nerveless, resolute, impossible to daunt or threaten . She did her best to keep her face impassive and hold her breathing as steady as she could. With her head coolly turned aside, she kept her eyes trained on the creature’s every movement. Her fingertips rested on the dagger hidden beneath her robes.
    She had seen a glimpse of its power when it had destroyed another of its kind with a blast of explosive fire, and she knew that, if it chose, it could easily kill her too. Like the monsters that had attacked her in the gorge, it was clearly far more dangerous than the spirits she had summoned during her training or the petty demons of the hill-tribes. It was probably an afrit of some kind; perhaps even a marid. Silver was her best defence now; her Wards might irritate it, but would do little more.
    Not that the demon wasn’t irritated already. It glanced up into the sky, where its companion had become a fiery dot on the horizon, and uttered a soft curse. With its sandalled foot it kicked a stone far off across the gorge.
    Asmira knew well enough that higher spirits could adopt any shape they chose, the better to beguile or dominate those around them. She also knew how foolish it was to take heed of how they looked. Yet this one gave her pause. Unlike the horrors that had attacked the caravan, unlike its own companion – which had seemed to delight in exuding a swaggering ferocity – this spirit concealed its wickedness beneath a pleasant form.
    When it had first tumbled into view, it had been a bearded traveller, badly stained with marks of battle. At some point since (and she had not noticed exactly when the change occurred) it had subtly transformed