The Ring of Solomon

master . How could any spirit descend to that ?’
    So saying, I lifted both hands and shot a Detonation of maximum power straight through the shadow and into the column behind.
    Ammet gave a cry. For an instant his body fractured into many shards and pieces that overlapped and contradicted one another, like ribbons layered, lacking depth. Then he pulled himself back into shape, and was exactly as before.
    Two scarlet Spasms erupted from the flailing fingers. One looped high, the other low; both raked across the surface of the circle, cracking the stonework, sending a rain of splinters flying.
    But the young man was gone. I’d flapped my wings and was away among the columns.
    ‘Loving your master?’ I called over my shoulder. ‘Now that’s mad.’
    There was a roar behind me. ‘You can’t escape, Bartimaeus! The vault is sealed.’
    ‘Oh, who said anything about escaping?’
    For in truth, I knew that I was doomed. I was doomed in a dozen ways. The marid was too strong for me to fight, too quick to evade. And even if by some miracle I managed to escape him and leave the vault, even if I fled as far off as the summit of Mount Lebanon, Khaba would still have been my master and I his servant, under his power, to be called back at his whim like a cringing dog upon a leash. His control over me was such that my Confinement, if he wished it, was inevitable. There wasn’t any point worrying about that.
    But there was one little thing I wanted to do before the inevitable occurred.
    ‘ He loves his master …’ Angling low between the columns, I gave full vent to my revulsion. From my flexing hands volleys of fiery bolts issued with the rat-a-tat rapidity of arrows in an Assyrian attack, scalding the air as they struck their targets. Tables shattered, knives and pincers burst and bubbled, mummy pits exploded in sand and flame. ‘ Loves his master …’ I snarled, destroying a cabinet of bones, turning a priceless set of cuneiform tablets into molten dust. 5 ‘I ask you. How could any spirit resort to that?’
    ‘Bartimaeus – you dare to do this! I shall cause you such pain …’ The outraged whisper echoed all around the maze of columns. Somewhere, red light flared. A fizzing Spasm bounced off the ceiling, zigzagged between pillars, and struck glancingly against my midriff, sending me tumbling to the floor in a shower of sparkling essence. The missile continued on its way, smashed into the wall and ignited a rack of mummies.
    ‘What a shame,’ I called, picking myself up with difficulty. ‘That looked like an almost complete set. He had one from every dynasty there.’
    The shadow, reverting to type, said nothing. I hobbled behind a column, drew my wings in close, and waited.
    Silence. No further attacks came. Ammet had evidently decided to limit the damage as best he could.
    I waited. By and by I peeped round the column. The light in the vault was dim. Several blue-green imp-lights in the ceiling flickered on and off; some had been destroyed by our exchange of magical fires. Smoke rose from fissures in the floor. From holes in the walls cascaded burning debris – large lumps, small ones, showers of little scarlet sparks that dwindled, flickered and went out.
    I waited.
    Then, beyond the smoke, I saw the dark, thin shape come creeping among the pillars, like a shark among shallows, blunt head moving swiftly from side to side.
    Once he got close, it would all be over.
    I raised my little finger, sent a tiny little Pulse arcing high, close to the ceiling, through the smoke and down on the opposite side of the vault. It struck a stone bench there with a little clinking sound.
    The shadow’s head tilted; quick as thought, it darted towards the noise. Almost as quickly, I flew like an arrow in the opposite direction, keeping close beside the wall.
    And there, ahead of me: the essence-cages, dozens upon dozens of them, the sickly, white-green radiance of their force-lines gleaming in the dimness like fungus on a rotten tree. If I’d had the time I would have broken them one by one, so as to inflict the least harm on the fragile things inside. But I had no time, and would get no other chance. So I sent out two Convulsions, white and yellow bands of fire that expanded into cones of whirling force; that snatched up the cages, twirled them high, snapped their force-lines, broke the iron bars asunder.
    I let the magic cease; the cages fell upon the floor. Some shattered completely; others cracked like eggshells.