The Ring of Solomon

themselves insensible. Outwardly Asmira had sat there smiling, laughing at their jokes and sipping at her wine. Inwardly she had been in an agony of suspense, expecting every moment to be sent away, or for the Egyptian to put the crystal bottle out of reach: behind her smile she longed to scream. But when, finally, Khaba’s head lolled and his eyelids closed, she was ready on the instant. Plucking the bottle from beneath his nose, she walked out of the hall beneath the ranks of flying djinn, and hurried to her room. There she removed the cloths and candles from her bag, set them out methodically, smashed the bottle and made the summons. And all without a single hesitation.
    The incantation itself had almost finished her. Asmira had summoned minor djinn before, using the same technique, but she had not reckoned on Bartimaeus’s strength. Even with her eyes closed, she had felt his power pressing against the margins of her circle as she tried to complete the words; knowledge of what would happen should she make a single error had drained her energies rapidly. But Sheba’s fate depended on her survival, and that knowledge was stronger still. Despite her weariness, despite the many months since she had last performed a summons, despite the djinni’s fury beating down upon her, Asmira had shut her fears out from her mind and bound him to her service.
    And now it just remained to spell that service out.
    She cleared her throat, and fixed her gaze upon the demonic shape. How different to the creature’s pleasant guise the day before! But terrible as it was, it might be used.
    ‘Bartimaeus,’ she said hoarsely, ‘I charge you now to come with me from this place, without hesitation or delay, and bring me safely to King Solomon, so that I may put him to death and remove his Ring (and for the avoidance of doubt this refers to the talisman of unparalleled power and not one of his lesser rings), then assist me in escaping with it to a place of safety. Is that all clear?’
    The figure said nothing. It was wreathed in smoke, a dark and frozen thing.
    Asmira shivered; a cold breeze seemed to waft across her neck. She glanced back at the chamber door, but all was still.
    ‘I also charge,’ she went on, ‘that if Solomon cannot be slain, or if I am captured or separated from you, above all else you must steal and destroy the Ring, or, that being impossible, hide it permanently from the sight and knowledge of all men.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I say again: is that clear?’
    The djinni did not move. Even the fires in his yellow eyes seemed to have died away.
    ‘Bartimaeus, is that clear ?’
    There was a stirring in the slender body. ‘Suicide. It can’t be done.’
    ‘You are an ancient spirit of great resource. You told me so yourself.’
    ‘Steal the Ring?’ The voice was very soft. ‘Kill Solomon? No. It’s suicide. I might as well jump down Khaba’s throat or take a bath in molten silver. I might as well eat myself feet first, or put my head under the bottom of a squatting elephant. At least those options would be entertaining to watch. You send me to my death.’
    ‘I risk myself as well,’ Asmira said.
    ‘Ah, yes. That’s the worst thing about it.’ The red-skinned demon moved at last. He seemed to have shrunk a little, and the brilliance of his colour had leached away. He half turned away from her, hugging himself as if he felt the cold. ‘You don’t care about dying,’ he said. ‘In fact, you almost expect it. And if that’s the way you feel about yourself , there’s not much hope for one of your slaves , is there?’
    ‘We have no time to debate this, Bartimaeus. There are far greater things at risk here than the lives of you and me.’
    ‘Greater things?’ The demon chuckled hollowly. ‘Oh, I wonder what they are. You know,’ he went on, interrupting Asmira as she began to speak, ‘ordinary magicians don’t care about anything except their wealth and waistline. But they do have a strong sense of self-preservation: they don’t like the idea of dying any more than I do. So when they send me off on a job, it’s rarely suicidal. Dangerous, yes – but always a calculated risk. Because they know that if I fail, the consequences might rebound on them . But you?’ The demon gave a heavy sigh. ‘No. I knew I’d run into someone like you one day. I knew it and I dreaded it. Because you’re a fanatic, aren’t you? You’re young and pretty and ever so empty-headed, and you don’t care