JONATHAN STROUD
DOUBLEDAY
Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Also by Jonathan Stroud
A Note on Magic
The Main Characters
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Part Two
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Part Three
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Praise
The Amulet of Samarkand
Bartimaeus 1
Bartimaeus 2
Bartimaeus 3
Bartimaeus 4
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Version 1.0
Epub ISBN 9781407076898
www.randomhouse.co.uk
THE RING OF SOLOMON
A DOUBLEDAY BOOK
Hardback 978 0 385 61915 8
Trade paperback 978 0 385 61916 5
Published in Great Britain by Doubleday,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Books
A Random House Group Company
This edition published 2010
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Copyright © Jonathan Stroud, 2010
Map illustration copyright © Kayley LeFaiver, 2010
The right of Jonathan Stroud to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
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For Arthur,
with love
Also by Jonathan Stroud
Bartimaeus
The Amulet of Samarkand
The Golem’s Eye
Ptolemy’s Gate
Buried Fire
The Leap
The Last Siege
Heroes of the Valley
www.jonathanstroud.com
A Note on Magic
MAGICIANS
Since history began in the mud-brick cities of Mesopotamia more than five thousand years ago, rulers of great nations have always used magicians to help maintain their rule. The pharaohs of Egypt and the kings of Sumer, Assyria and Babylon all relied on magic to protect their cities, strengthen their armies and cast their enemies down. Modern governments, though cloaking the fact behind careful propaganda, continue this same policy.
Magicians do not have magical abilities themselves, but derive their power from the control of spirits, which do. They spend many years in lonely study, mastering the techniques that will allow them to summon these fearsome entities and survive. Successful magicians are consequently always clever and physically robust. Because of the dangers of their craft, they are also usually ruthless, secretive and self-serving.
For most summonings, the magician stands inside a carefully drawn circle of protection, within which is a pentacle, or five-sided star. Certain complex incantations are spoken, and the spirit is drawn from its far dimension. Next, the magician recites special words of Binding. If this is done correctly, the spirit becomes the magician’s slave. If a mistake is made, the protective power of the circle is broken, and the unhappy magician is at the spirit’s mercy.
Once a slave is bound, it must obey its master’s instructions until its task is complete. When this time comes (it may take hours, days or years), the rejoicing spirit is formally dismissed. In general, spirits resent their captivity, no matter what its duration, and seek any opportunity to do their masters harm. Most sensible magicians therefore keep their slaves for as short a time as possible, just in case their luck runs out.
SPIRITS
All spirits are formed of essence, a fluid, ever-shifting substance. In their own dimension, known as the Other Place, they have no solid form, but on Earth they must take some kind of definite guise. However, higher spirits are able to change shape at will: this gives them some respite from the pain that Earth’s cruel solidity causes to their essence.
There are five main categories of spirit. These are:
1. Imps: The lowliest type. Imps are scurrilous and impertinent and their magic is humble. Most cannot change shape at all. Nevertheless they are easily directed and present no great danger to the magician. For this reason they are frequently summoned, and used for minor tasks such as scrubbing floors, clearing middens, carrying messages and keeping watch.
2. Foliots: More potent than imps, but not as dangerous as djinn, foliots are favoured by magicians for their stealth and cunning. Being reasonably adept at changing shape, they make excellent spies.
3. Djinn: The largest class of spirit, and the hardest to summarize. No two seem alike. They lack the raw power of the greatest spirits, but frequently exceed them in cleverness and audacity. They excel at shape-shifting, and have a vast arsenal of spells at their disposal. A djinni is the favoured slave for most competent magicians.
4. Afrits: Strong as bulls, imposing in stature and arrogant as kings, afrits are blunt and irascible by temperament. They are less subtle than other spirits, and their might frequently exceeds their intelligence. Monarchs throughout history have used them as vanguards in battle, and as guardians of their gold.
5. Marids: The most perilous and least common of the five types. Supremely confident in their magical power, marids sometimes appear in discreet or gentle guises, only to suddenly switch to vast and hideous shapes. Only the greatest
magicians dare summon them.
All magicians fear their spirit-slaves, and ensure their obedience by means of inventive punishments. For this reason most spirits bow to the inevitable. They serve their masters as efficiently as possible and – despite their natural instincts – remain outwardly zealous and polite, for fear of repercussions.
This is what most spirits do. There are exceptions.
A note on pronunciation:
‘Djinni’ is pronounced ‘jinnee’,
and ‘djinn’ is pronounced ‘jinn’.
‘Bartimaeus’ is pronounced ‘Bart-im-ay-us’.
The Main Characters
JERUSALEM
Solomon
King of Israel
Hiram
Solomon’s vizier
Khaba
A magician – in service to King Solomon
Ezekiel
A magician – in service to King Solomon
And various other magicians, servants and wives
MARIB
Balkis
Queen of Sheba
Asmira
A captain of the guard
THE SPIRITS
And numerous other marids, afrits, djinn, foliots and imps
This story takes place in and around Jerusalem, in 950 BC.
Part
One
1
Sunset above the olive groves. The sky, like a bashful youth kissed for the first time, blushed with a peach-pink light. Through the open windows came the gentlest of breezes, carrying the fragrances of evening. It stirred the hair of the young woman standing alone and pensive in the centre of the marble floor, and caused her dress to flutter against the contours of her lean, dark limbs.
She lifted a hand; slim fingers toyed with a ringlet of hair beside her neck. ‘Why so shy, my lord?’ she whispered. ‘Come near and let me look on you.’
In the opposite pentacle the old man lowered the wax cylinder in his hand and glared at me with his single eye. ‘Great Jehovah, Bartimaeus! You don’t think that’s going to work on me?’
My eyelashes quivered beguilingly. ‘I’ll dance too, if you’ll only step a little closer. Come on, spoil yourself. I’ll do you the Twirl of the Seven Veils.’
The magician spoke with irritation. ‘No, thank you. And you can stop that too.’
‘Stop what?’
‘That … that jiggling about. Every now and then you—There! You did it again!’
‘Oh, come on, sailor, live a little. What’s putting you off?’
My master uttered an oath. ‘Possibly your clawed left foot. Possibly your scaly tail. Also possibly the fact that even a new-born babe would know not to step outside his protective circle when requested to do so by a wicked, duplicitous spirit such as yourself. Now silence, cursed creature of air, and abandon your pathetic temptations, or I shall strike you sideways with such a Pestilence as even great Egypt never suffered!’ The old boy was quite excited, all out of breath, his white hair a disordered halo around his head. From behind his ear he took a stylus and grimly made a notation on the cylinder. ‘There’s a black mark there for you, Bartimaeus,’ he said. ‘Another one. If this line gets filled, you’ll be off the special allowances list for good, you understand. No more roasted imps, no time off, nothing. Now, I’ve a job for you.’
The maiden in the pentacle folded her arms. She wrinkled her dainty nose. ‘I’ve just done a job.’
‘Well, now you’ve got another one.’
‘I’ll do it when I’ve had a rest.’
‘You’ll do it this very night.’
‘Why should I do it? Send Tufec or Rizim.’
A bright jag of scarlet lightning issued from the forefinger of the old man, looped across the intervening space and set my pentacle aflame, so that I wailed and danced with mad abandon.
The crackling ceased; the pain in my feet lessened. I came to an ungainly standstill.
‘You were right, Bartimaeus,’ the old man chuckled. ‘You do dance well. Now, are you going to give me any more backchat? If so, another notch upon the cylinder it shall be.’
‘No, no – there’s no need for that.’ To my great relief the stylus was slowly replaced behind the aged ear. I clapped my hands vigorously. ‘So, another job, you say? What joy! I’m humbled that you have selected me from among so many other worthy djinn. What brought me to your attention tonight, great Master? The ease with which I slew the giant of Mount Lebanon? The zeal with which I put the Canaanite rebels to flight? Or just my general reputation?’
The old man scratched his nose. ‘None of that; rather it was your behaviour last night, when the watch-imps observed you in the form of a mandrill swaggering through the undergrowth below the Sheep Gate, singing lewd songs about King Solomon and loudly extolling your own magnificence.’
The maiden gave a surly shrug. ‘Might not have been me.’
‘The words “Bartimaeus is best”, repeated at tedious length, suggest otherwise.’
‘Well, all right. So I’d had too many mites at supper. No harm done.’
‘No harm? The Watch reported it to their supervisor, who reported it to me. I reported it to High Magician Hiram, and I believe it has since come to the ears of the king himself.’ His face became all prim and starchy. ‘He is not pleased.’
I blew out my cheeks. ‘Can’t he tell me so in person?’
The magician’s eye bulged; it looked like an egg emerging from a chicken.1 ‘You dare suggest,’ he cried, ‘that great Solomon, King of all Israel, master of all lands from the Gulf of Aqaba to the broad Euphrates, would deign to speak with a sulphurous slave such as you? The idea! In all my years I have heard nothing so offensive—!’
‘Oh, come, come. Look at the state of you. Surely you must have.’
‘Two more notches, Bartimaeus, for your effrontery and cheek.’ Out came the cylinder; the stylus scratched upon it furiously. ‘Now then, enough of your nonsense. Listen to me closely. Solomon desires new wonders for his collection. He has commanded his magicians to search the known world for objects of beauty and power. At this very moment, in all the wall-towers of Jerusalem, my rivals conjure demons no less hideous than you and send them out like fiery comets to plunder ancient cities, north, south, east and west. All hope to astound the king with the treasures they secure. But they will be disappointed, Bartimaeus, will they not, for we will bring him the finest prize of all. You understand me?’
The pretty maiden curled her lip; my long, sharp teeth glinted wetly. ‘Grave-robbing again? Solomon should be doing seedy stuff like this himself. But no, as usual he can’t be bothered to lift his finger and use the Ring. How lazy can you get?’
The old man gave a twisted smile. The black hollow of his lost eye seemed to suck in light. ‘Your opinions are interesting. So much so that I shall depart right now and report them to the king. Who knows? Perhaps he will choose to lift his finger and use the Ring on you.’
There was a slight pause, during which the shadows of the room grew noticeably deeper, and a chill ran up my shapely spine. ‘No need,’ I growled. ‘I’ll get him his precious treasure. Where do you want me to go, then?’
My master gestured to the windows, through which the cheery lights of lower Jerusalem winked and shone. ‘Fly east to Babylon,’ he said. ‘One hundred miles south-east of that dread city, and thirty miles south of the Euphrates’s current course, lie certain mounds and ancient diggings, set about with fragments of wind-blown wall. The local peasants avoid the ruins for fear of ghosts, while any nomads keep their flocks beyond the furthest tumuli. The only inhabitants of the region are religious zealots and other madmen, but the site was not always so desolate. Once it had a name.’
‘Eridu,’ I said softly. ‘I know.’2
‘Strange must be the memories of a creature such as you, who has seen such places rise and fall …’ The old man gave a shudder. ‘I do not like to dwell on it. But if you recall the location, so much the better! Search its ruins, locate its temples. If the scrolls speak truly,
there are many sacred chambers there, containing who knows what antique glory! With luck, some of the treasures will have remained undisturbed.’
‘No doubt about that,’ I said, ‘given its guardians.’
‘Ah yes, the ancients will have protected them well!’ The old man’s voice rose to a dramatic pitch; his hands made eloquent fluttering gestures of dismay. ‘Who knows what lurks there still? Who knows what prowls the ruins? Who knows what hideous shapes, what monstrous forms might— Will you stop doing that with your tail? It’s not hygienic.’
I drew myself up. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘I get the picture. I’ll go to Eridu and see what I can find. But when I get back I want to be dismissed straight off. No arguments, no shilly-shallying. I’ve been on Earth too long now and my essence aches like a mouldering tooth.’
My master grinned a gummy grin, stuck his chin towards me and waggled a wrinkled finger. ‘That all depends on what you bring back, doesn’t it, Bartimaeus? If you impress me, I may let you go. See that you do not fail! Now – prepare yourself. I shall bind you to your purpose.’