The Ring of Solomon

.’
    An image flashed before Asmira’s eyes: the tower of Marib burning, almost two weeks before. Chains of people bringing water. Bodies being brought down to the street. Furious tears studded her vision. ‘You foul, self-centred, vicious little … imp !’ she snarled. ‘You have no idea how much I care! You have no idea why I’m doing this!’
    ‘You think not?’ The demon held up three knobbly, clawed fingers and counted them off swiftly. ‘Three guesses. Your king. Your country. Your religion. At least two of them, and probably all three. Well? Tell me I’m wrong.’
    Asmira knew that the djinni was deliberately provoking her, and knew that she should ignore it. But rage and weariness made her susceptible. ‘I am here out of love for my queen,’ she said, ‘and for Sheba, fairest nation under the Sun. And there can be no higher honour than that – not that a soulless creature like you would ever realize it.’
    The demon grinned, showing curved, white, sharply intersecting fangs. ‘Well now,’ he said, ‘I must be soulless because all that rubbish leaves me cold.’ His shape suddenly blurred; it became a succession of tousled, wide-eyed youths, tall, short, handsome, plain, with skins of many nations. The last was the same beautiful, dark-haired guise she remembered from the gorge, but this time wingless, sober-faced. ‘You don’t need a djinni for this job,’ the youth said. ‘Young men are best at dying for empty concepts. Go back to Sheba and find some of your own.’
    ‘I’m not talking about empty concepts, demon!’ Asmira cried. ‘King Solomon is my real and bitter enemy! What do you know about it? You have never walked in the gardens of Sheba, where the fragrances of jasmine, cinnamon and cassia rise up to heaven. You’ve never seen the ruffling blue spice forests of Shabwa, or the alabaster walls of Marib, where the great reservoir glitters amidst the bright green fields. All this is doomed unless I act! Very soon, if he is not stopped, Solomon will turn his cursed Ring and bring forth a host of demons just as vile as you. They will fly across the desert and fall upon my country. They will raze the cities, destroy the crops and drive my people wailing into the desert. I cannot let this happen!’
    The youth shrugged. ‘I understand your pain, I really do,’ he said. ‘But pain changes nothing. So Sheba’s got some pretty plants and buildings, has it? Well, so did Uruk, and Uruk was destroyed by the Babylonians without a second thought. The fountains where its children played were smashed and the water ran away into the ground. Its walls were broken and the towers razed and the gardens burned and the ruins covered over by the sand. In fifty years its very site was lost. So it goes. These things happen in your unpleasant little world. It’s Sheba’s turn now; one day it will be Jerusalem’s. Take the long view, like me, and be content. Failing that, go ahead and die. Just leave me out of it. This squabble’s nothing to do with me.’
    ‘It is,’ Asmira said viciously, ‘now that I’ve summoned you.’
    ‘So summon someone else!’ The djinni’s voice grew urgent. ‘Why choose me? There isn’t one good reason.’
    ‘You’re right. Not one, but many. You know Solomon’s palace, you know its layout and routine, you know the names and natures of its guards. You are a powerful spirit. And you were stupid enough to tell me your name a few hours ago. How’s that?’
    ‘Oh, very succinct,’ the djinni snarled, and his eyes were almond slits of flame. ‘Especially the name part. All that fluffy stuff about urging Khaba to let me go … You were already planning this, weren’t you? You’d got my name, and wanted me freely available for use!’
    Asmira shook her head. ‘That’s not true.’
    ‘No? Faquarl was right. You are a liar. I should have killed you when I had the chance.’
    ‘I intended to do the job myself,’ Asmira cried. ‘But I ran out of time. I can’t get access to Solomon. No one ever sees him except in council. In two days Sheba will be gone! I need help, Bartimaeus, and I need it now. When that revolting magician showed me what he’d done with you, I took my chance. I’ve freed you, don’t forget! I’ve done you a favour! Just serve me this once – then I’ll let you go.’
    ‘Oh, just this once? This one little impossible job? Kill Solomon? Steal the Ring? Have you not heard about Philocretes—’
    ‘Heard