Aladdin and His Wonderfully Infernal Device, Page 2

  Aladdin watched his mother blush. Truly, a rare sight to behold. “Farrin.”

  “Farrin,” he repeated, his eyes seeming to catch the light of the nearby lamp. “As my life has been given such prosperity of late, I can only beg you to forgive me for my failure in not contacting you sooner. I hope you do not mind I called upon young Aladdin here first.”

  Her hand went to her mouth. Aladdin paused when a muffled sob escape his mother. When she spoke, he felt his skin prickle. “Oh dear brother, it is I who must beg of forgiveness, for the shame that haunts our family is all on account of Aladdin.”

  Her son spun around. “Mother, no! You make so very little as a rug maker for the Sultan and for the merchants of Bagdad! What I do I must so that we can survive!”

  “You shame your father’s name with your mischief!” Farrin spat over her shoulder.

  “Farrin, Aladdin, please…”

  Both of them were silenced by the gentle plea. Jaha looked upon them both, his expression not piteous but more regretful.

  “I blame myself for your strife,” he said, his soft, soothing voice seeming far too loud for the small confines of their home. “I should have come sooner, taken a more authoritative role in my brother’s affairs, but I had not the opportunity to call upon you.”

  Aladdin stared at the All-Powerful Jaha. It was all his mind could repeat over and over again—this is the great Jaha, prostrate before us? He looked over to his mother, and she was as equally dumbstruck as he was.

  “Please, Farrin, let me begin to make amends. Let me take Aladdin as an apprentice. The boy is of an age where he should come to discover his path, his destiny.” Aladdin heard his mother gasp. Over her shoulder, he saw a pair of trembling hands go to her mouth. “Our journey, if it so please you, would start tonight. After a good meal, of course.”

  Aladdin scuttled in front of his mother and dropped to his knees. “Please, mother, please! Let me do this!”

  On many occasions Aladdin had seen his mother cry, usually on account of his thievery; but this was the first time he had ever seen her tears be ones of joy. He placed his hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it.

  “Oh, Aladdin, you are so like your father. I tried so hard to guide you to a more proper life, but I knew your gifts were not for an ordinary life.”

  “I could see that in his little rooftop adventure this afternoon,” Jaha said, his smile approving and, perhaps, a bit mischievous.

  His mother arched a brow. “So…”

  “Mother, please, are you going to spoil this moment of happiness?”

  “Thinking about it,” she quipped.

  A laugh suddenly bubbled out from her. This was his punishment then—a tweak of his nose.

  “It’s settled then?” Jaha asked, rising from his place. “A lovely farewell dinner and then we are off, the two of us, yes?” He clapped his hands together. “Gather what you will need, Aladdin, as we will leave from the restaurant.”

  “Yes, Master,” Aladdin said, just before disappearing deeper into the small house. When he returned, he now carried a small haversack over one shoulder and another pack covering his entire back.

  “What in the name—” Jaha began.

  “Oh, Aladdin, certainly you cannot mean to lug that infernal device on your travels.”

  “Mother, it is nearly done!” he protested. “I can finish it whilst we travel.”

  “You have me most curious, Aladdin,” Jaha said with a slow nod. He then motioned to the outside where night was falling quickly.

  “Fine, bring it with you, but—” she said, her slender finger pointing at her son, “it stays outside the restaurant.”

  “Mother,” Aladdin began, pulling the covered pack closer to him, “I can’t. There are thieves in the city.”

  He couldn’t understand why Jaha and his mother found his concern so funny. They were both, in fact, moved to tears.

  The three of them were quite the sight as they walked through the streets. A local rug maker, a street whelp carrying an odd contraption across his back, and a world-renown magician.

  As they went, Jaha wanted to hear more about his departed brother. His mother remained curious about the life Aladdin would be living under his care. The words they traded were just that to him—words. Aladdin surrendered himself to ideas he had once reserved for when he slept. All that was changing before him. His uncle was an illusionist! Aladdin knew of these men and their need for ingenious machinations. His dreams were now about to take form. Full form. Something tangible. Something wonderful.

  He was still quite full from lunch; so while his mother and uncle talked, laughed, and celebrated, Aladdin stared at the covered device by his feet. He then felt a slight pressure on his stomach and gave a little chuckle at realizing his hand had slipped there. The prize from earlier that day was still there, waiting. He breathed a sigh of relief. Since meeting Jaha, everything had been a blur.

  “Aladdin.”

  He blinked, nearly falling back at the sound of his name. The conversation had paused between Jaha, his mother, and what appeared to be a small group of followers of Jaha. All eyes were upon him, and Aladdin felt his skin grow hot.

  “Forgive me, uncle,” he spoke. Aladdin was not used to so many eyes looking at him, and he found out he didn’t particularly like it.

  “No need, my apprentice,” he said proudly. “Were you having a vision of the future?”

  His uncle did understand him. “Yes, Master. I was.”

  Jaha chuckled, encouraging those gathered to laugh with him. “Excellent, my clever apprentice. This is why I have come home, and we must not whittle away our time together. I do have one more performance before your great Sultan in the Imperial Theatre tomorrow, but tonight I have business elsewhere that cannot wait. We must be off.” The crowd groaned in protest, but Jaha held his hands up, shaking his head slowly. “I did promise myself that I would not keep Aladdin from the opportunities that away him and twilight is upon us. Come, my apprentice, for you have much to learn.”

  As Jaha gave blessings and accolades to the followers, Aladdin stepped aside with his mother.

  “I will not disappoint you,” he pledged.

  “No, you will not,” she assured him. “I know there is much of your father in you, and all you have needed is a purpose. I believe Jaha will give you that purpose.”

  “Yes,” he said, turning to look at his uncle, “I believe my uncle will lead me to great fortune.”

  “But promise me something, Aladdin,” his mother said, the tone in her voice demanding his full attention, “do not dismiss what you have already learned.”

  Aladdin’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, mother?”

  Her dark gaze flicked over to Jaha and then returned back to him. “I mean that even in light of my disapproval you are far more clever than you realize. You know when danger is close.” Her eyes went back to Jaha again, and she added, “As does your mother.”

  Aladdin did not turn. The strange chill that he felt on meeting Jaha had returned, so intensely that he had to fight down a shudder.

  “Go with Jaha. I do not doubt that you will find your destiny as he promises but perhaps not in the fashion that you may imagine.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, and he could feel it in her embrace. This was goodbye.

  This was also an opportunity. “What is it, mother?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Your father was one of three children. He had two sisters,” she returned, her grip tightened. “There was no brother.” They parted as Jaha drew closer. “Be safe, my sweet son.”

  Aladdin knew the tears in her eyes were sincere. She wanted him to discover why this man wanted him, and she believed in his ability to return home. He was, as she said, a survivor.

  “I will, mother. I will.”

  They both waved in return to the small gathering and their affection. Their collected wishes of luck, prosperity, and opulence continued to echo around them until finally Aladdin and Jaha we surrounded by m
oonlight and the open deserts.

  He held an unlit torch, and turned it base sharply to the left. The bulbous tip erupted into flame.

  “We have a few hours of gas within this, so we must make haste,” he said to Aladdin. “Come.”

  Aladdin looked over his shoulder one last time, shifted the contraption across his back once more, and followed Jaha into the darkness.

  Three

  “The idea of performing magic in front of so many is a little scary,” Aladdin admitted to his uncle as they crested a dune.

  He had never traveled so far at night across the desert, and he found the quiet most unsettling. Even in a corner of the city tucked away from passersby provided even the slightest of dins. There were people close. Always. Here, in the expanse devouring him, his voice seemed to disappear.

  “I’m more used to remaining unseen,” he continued. Why wasn’t his uncle talking to him? He had become ever so quiet since leaving Baghdad. “I wouldn’t call it stage fright so much as a new way of thinking, yes, uncle? Now instead of sleight-of-hand that no on should see, I now must think of how to do what I have always done, but make sure everyone sees me.”

  Jaha paused, looked to his left, then to his right.

  “Yes,” Aladdin said, shifting the pack on his shoulders again as he looked over the open void before them, “it will take some getting used—”

  The gaslight torch was still high above Jaha’s head when he rounded on Aladdin. His face was still mostly concealed in shadow, but the whites of his eyes just managed to cut through the void.

  “Utter one more word, boy, and I will remove your tongue. Understood?”

  Aladdin nodded. He had heard threats before, he knew this was not empty intimidation. What had been spoken was a promise.

  He held his gaze with Aladdin for a moment, sniffed, and then returned his eyes back to the horizon. They were atop one of the highest dunes of the desert, and with the moon still full and brilliant in the sky, sand stretched in every direction.

  “It must be here,” Jaha muttered.

  They descended into a valley of sand dunes, the ever-changing mountains on either side of them threatening to block out the moon. Jaha reached into his satchel and produced three polished spheres. He held them in a gloved palm, and brought the torch closer to them. The spheres suddenly flashed, and that was when Jaha tossed them up into the air. Aladdin watched the orbs rise high into the air and then rocket upward, accompanied by a shrill, high-pitched whistle. When the piercing sound faded off, the patch of night above their heads erupted into green flame. The darkness pulled back like a curtain, and now there were details in the dunes and valley that he could clearly see.

  “Quickly, boy,” Jaha commanded, pointing in the direction opposite of his own. “You are looking for a large, brass ring—perhaps the size of your chest. We only have moments.” His next words resembled the growl of a wild beast. “Do not fail me!”

  Aladdin hurriedly looked about him, the emerald luminance around him already beginning to dwindle. He dug his fingertips in the sand just deep enough to allow him to move through it easily. The valley was long and wider than this light would allow for a proper search. He did not want to state the obvious fact that was now tearing away at his resolve—they were in a desert, in a valley created by sand dunes. Was Jaha expecting these same dunes to be here after the next sandstorm? Who is to say if this fleeting vista was here a month ago, or two?

  Then his hand brushed something. It was not a dead animal, nor was it rock. His hand connected something large and metallic.

  He looked up and just visible in the shadows and dimming green light was his uncle.

  “Your father was one of three children. He had two sisters,” his mother had told him in their final embrace. “There was never any mention of a brother.”

  “Uncle!” he called out as his hands began to dig.

  The more the curve of the brass ring came into view, the more his mother’s words echoed in his ears. Yes, it was true that he had hardly been the most honorable of subjects to the Sultan, but his mother never discouraged his resourcefulness in the streets. She, too, nurtured an instinct based on survival, and perhaps she knew what Aladdin could accomplish with the right opportunity.

  He saw it in her eyes when they said goodbye to one another. You will find your destiny as he promises but not in the fashion that you may imagine.

  “Dig faster, boy!” Jaha snapped at him.

  Aladdin did not bother to look up at his false uncle. The façade was beginning to slip. His mother must have suspected there was a method to Jaha, and that Aladdin possessed the means to outwit whatever nefarious intention the man had in store for him.

  If only Aladdin were as confident.

  His fingers found the base of the ring and now Aladdin pushed aside the sand until finding an edge. His only light was the moon, but even that was about to disappear. Their torch also seemed to be dwindling.

  Another edge. Aladdin dug faster.

  Finally, standing in what seemed to be an ankle-deep hole, Aladdin looked across the center of a hatch matching the width and breath of a small cart. He could move the brass ring back and forth, but with great effort. For this hatch to move, they would need a contraption akin to the locoloaders that had provided him a quick escape on the docks earlier that morning.

  “So there you are,” Jaha muttered. “Move aside, boy,” he said, removing his satchel. “This is where my talents are needed.”

  Jaha drove the torch into the sand, dug into his bag, and removed four fist-sized spheres. Aladdin squinted in the dim light to watch what Jaha did next. The magician looked at every corner of the massive hatch and then turned a small dial in each of the spheres. He knelt at the corner just by his feet and—CLANG! The sphere was impaled on the sharp point of the hatch. Aladdin jumped as—CLANG!—Jaha placed a second at the far corner. The man sprinted to the third corner of the hatch—CLANG!

  As Jaha ran for the fourth and final corner, Aladdin heard a soft, constant tick-tick-tick-tick coming from the spheres…

  If Jaha had told him to run, Aladdin missed it as he only heard his feet thumping hard against the dunes. He kept Jaha in front of him, the flutter of robes and feel of sand occasionally grazing his skin.

  Suddenly the darkness disappeared, and Aladdin was picked up and tossed into Jaha. He felt them both strike sand, but never heard their impact on account of the roar coming from behind them.

  “Get off me, whelp!” Jaha growled, shoving his elbow into him.

  Aladdin rolled back into the sand, but it was not his hard impact against the dunes that stole his breath. It was the incredible sight that bathed the desert in an amazing golden light.

  The hatch now cut a dark square in the dunes, but it was slowly disappearing from sight as sand knocked loose was now gradually covering it. Slips of the desert appeared as shimmering veils against a bright yellow light coming from the maw in the valley floor. Aladdin pulled himself up to his feet and joined Jaha at the lip of the opening. The longer they stood there, the brighter the light became. Torches were lighting within the cave at random. Perhaps it was the removal of the hatch, or the intake of air this chamber now suddenly received, but firelight continued to illuminate the treasure trove before them. Gold. Gems. This was not a king’s ransom. This was the ransom of an empire. A dynasty.

  Aladdin’s reverie was shaken away as Jaha grabbed him by the nape of his neck and spun him around. In the glow of the eternal riches stretching into an unseen horizon beneath them, the magician appeared like a malevolent spirit threatening to hold Aladdin accountable for his crimes in the streets.

  “You have done exceedingly well,” Jaha spoke, his voice now seeming as sweet as honey from the kitchens of the Sultan himself, “but now we have arrived to your first true test under my care.”

  Aladdin looked back at the pit and then back to the great shadow looking over him.

  “I cannot descend into the cave we have discovered. Agility and age has caug
ht up with me, and such a pursuit as what awaits us in this treasure trove is too much for me.” Aladdin flinched as Jaha’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “You must go down into the pit we have unearthed together and follow the cobblestone path within.” His grip tightened. “Listen to me carefully, boy—once inside, you will see vessels everywhere overflowing with gold, silver, and the most flawless jewels you would ever see. Do not meddle with them, for if you do death will fall upon you instantly.”

  “So if I cannot help myself to the treasure here, why am I following this path?” Aladdin spoke. It was a relief to know he had not lost his voice completely.

  “You are looking for a lamp.”

  Aladdin blinked. “A lamp?”

  “Yes, a simple brass lamp.”

  He looked behind his uncle again, taking note of what was just visible—rubies, gold, sapphires, emeralds…

  He couldn’t help but question, “You’re serious?”

  Jaha gave a nod and then brought Aladdin to the lip of the pit. “This brass lamp may be alight when you find it. Take the lamp down, put it out, keep it close, and bring it to me.” He then gave Aladdin’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Be brave, be bold, and we shall both be rich all our lives.”

  The glow of what Aladdin could see now as treasure stretching in all directions bathed them both in amber light. Just within sight at the bottom of the pit was a clearing—a round pattern of cobblestones, completely clean of treasure.

  Aladdin turned back to where they had landed and grabbed his strange pack. “I am ready, uncle.”

  Four