The item that did make him pause though was something completely different; a thing of beauty.
Much like the lamp Jaha wanted, the device Aladdin stared at was made of brass, but there was also an impressive wood inlay and ornate engravings in the firing mechanism and butt. He reached for the device—but paused. His fingers itched to hold it, but the words of his uncle whispered in his ear. Do not touch any of the riches around you, unless you wish a speedy death!
Such was the warning of his uncle. His false uncle.
His eyes took in the grappling hook device; truly, a work of art. Aladdin chewed his bottom lip—and then reached out to take up the device’s case. He held his breath and waited. His heart continued to beat. The air still smelt of incense. There were no pinches or searing sensations of agony. A deep breath. Then another.
Death had not come for him; at least, not now.
Aladdin removed the grappling hook and coil from its fine velvet case and felt the weight. It was…light; no more than a feather in his palm. The coil did not lend itself too much length, so perhaps the device was not used for scaling buildings. Perhaps a quick escape from window to window, or awning to awning.
He looked back to where Jaha waited for him. If this lamp was the intended bounty for him, perhaps Aladdin could keep this device for his own. Taking it apart to see how it worked would be a treasure in itself.
He fastened the grappling gun to his own sash. It would have been a real delight to have this on hand earlier in the morning.
With a last look at the other riches around him, all of which now felt suddenly obtainable, Aladdin continued to the end of the cobblestones. He stared at the lamp; the flame flickering happily from its tarnished neck.
Aladdin’s fingers itched again. An opportunity, he thought to himself.
He pointed his grappling device at the lamp. The first click of the trigger extended the teeth of the hook. The next position fired the coil and the teeth clamped on to the lamp’s handle. Aladdin threw the gun’s switch, and he heard the bow’s reel spin. The lamp flew off its pedestal, and its flame disappeared as it sailed through the air into Aladdin’s hand.
He held up the lamp, and then considered the grappling gun in his other hand. “No, I won’t take you apart right away,” he assured the device.
A soft tinkle of metal against metal took Aladdin’s attention from the gun to the piles of treasure around him. A gold piece tumbled down a column of coins, triggering other coins to fall. Through his sandals, Aladdin felt bricks shudder. His eyes widened as sand slowly sifted through the hairline cracks between the stones underfoot.
He knew the fear that was threatening to overtake him, but he also knew after many street chases and close calls with the Sultan’s guard how to control this fear. Aladdin bent to one knee, casting another glance at Jaha’s prize, before removing the shouldered pack he had been carrying all this while.
He cast aside the makeshift cover and flipped the latch that revealed his creation’s clockwork. His eyes darted over the many gears, cogs, struts, and springs, a bizarre concert of junk that no one else wanted, and of mechanisms that he obtained through less-than-honest measures and means. His hand slipped to the sash around his waist, and the gear from this morning’s adventure was still there, waiting for employment. His fingers made quick work of an empty bolt. As the soft rumble grew, the gear from his morning’s exploits was secured in its spindle, the latch locked, and his creation—a device born from stories told by his mother when he was younger—now centered securely on his back.
He did not anticipate the device throwing his balance off as it did, and the shifting sand now rising as a tide underfoot and the mountains of treasure collapsing around him did even less to keep his pace constant. Aladdin fell to the ground several times in his mad dash back to the opening. He could hear Jaha calling his name.
“Aladdin, you are safe?” The smile the magician gave Aladdin knew was not for him. The young thief could see where his gaze was focused.
“I am!” He grabbed the rope. “And so is your treasure. Pull me up!”
Jaha gave a few tugs at the rope, but Aladdin suddenly felt it go slack. He plummeted back to the cavern, the sand underneath him now decorated with gold and silver baubles.
“I have no footing up here.” He laid flat, stretching out his hands. “Throw me the lamp!”
“Stay there, uncle,” Aladdin said. “I’ll come to you!”
Aladdin ran back in the direction of the path, stopped, and then wrenched hard the cord that dangled from the side of his device. Now joining the clamor of treasure and the rumble of an angry desert was a high pitched whine and rapid ticking. With a hard snap, wings of carpet extended to their full length, the beautiful and intricate patterns of his mother’s work standing out in dark contrast to the brilliant golden light around him. Aladdin took only three steps until the propeller reached its full rotation and gave the additional lift needed for his wings to send him upward. His uncle flinched but Aladdin managed to grab the man’s wrists. He felt himself rise up out of the cave’s mouth, but the pop from his contraption caused them both to plummet.
Jaha grunted, spraying sand everywhere as Aladdin dangled from the magician’s arms, his feet kicking in the open space.
“Give me the lamp, Aladdin,” Jaha snarled.
“Pull me up first!” he implored.
“Very well, boy,” Jaha said, shifting his weight and then giving a great heave.
Aladdin felt himself inch higher as the wings on his back twitched. Something had stuck in the works. It would require his attention once he was free.
His gaze shot back up to Jaha who was still pulling him free, but only using one hand to do so. Jaha’s other wrenched free of Aladdin’s hold and reached for where the modest lamp hung. Aladdin tried to roll his body and keep it from him, but his false uncle had grasped it quickly.
The lamp dully caught the light of the cave as Jaha held it over his head. The magician let out a triumphant howl, and Aladdin caught in his eyes a wild, maniacal look that had been there since the cave had been opened.
As Aladdin suspected, once Jaha held the lamp, he wrenched his arm away.
This was why the boy had not removed his grappling hook from the lamp.
Aladdin fell. As he slipped free of the cave’s lip, he grabbed the cable still connected to the lamp’s handle and tugged. The brass work flew out of Jaha’s grasp and returned Aladdin’s. He could hear Jaha’s scream, the rage of the cave, the collapse of various piles of treasure, and the repetitive click-click-click of the contraption on his back. He twisted as he fell, turning in the direction of his desperate yank against his ornithoper’s starter cord, and he held his breath as the click-click-click turned into a clack-clack-clack. He felt himself lurch, and suddenly he swooped up into the air, his body spinning like a top. He was descending deeper into the cave, deeper into the collapsing towers of precious metals, gems and trinkets.
Aladdin twisted the throttle, feeling a surge of heat as the boiler released precious pressure. It helped him get out from under the rich man’s avalanche, but it would not help him escape the underground prison.
Aladdin plummeted to the ground, hitting a pile of treasure that scattered bowls and coins everywhere. He pushed up with his arms and looked behind him. Sand from outside was now pouring into the mouth of the cave. The slab that had one been blown clear by Jaha’s bombs now slid down the dunes to return to its original resting place. The madness unfolding around him compelled Aladdin to run deeper into the vault, looking for any safe shelter from what appeared to be his fate underneath the sands of the great desert.
Five
You will find your destiny as he promises, but perhaps not in the fashion that you may imagine.
His mother’s words offered little comfort within the silence of the underground vault with its great hatch now back into place. At least the torches had not extinguished themselves once the cave was sealed. Instead, the lights continued to flicker happi
ly, casting light on what could be all the wealth of the world.
Aladdin emerged from his shelter, a small golden shrine that had probably been hollowed out for a statue or perhaps a sacred urn. He was trapped in a kingdom of wealth, and yet not a scrap of food was in sight.
There was very little of the footpath visible; it was either covered in gold and silver trinkets, or reclaimed by the sand. He had just been grateful the shrine provided a safe haven from the chaos triggered by removing the lamp from its pedestal. Something Jaha failed to mention to him. He promised himself to ask his “mentor” about this oversight when he could.
He was trying to figure out where he was within the cave, but nothing looked as he had originally saw it.
“I am in trouble,” he muttered, his own voice the only sound within the massive cavern.
He took a step and felt something bounce against his thigh. He looked down to see the cause of his current strife—the plain brass lamp the All-Powerful Jaha.
Jaha had been more than willing to sacrifice Aladdin to the cave in exchange for the piece of junk. He held it up into the light, considering what was worth the life of another. Perhaps there was an inscription leading to another treasure on it?
Aladdin looked around himself. Greater than this trove?
Then the light caught a pattern; it was no larger than his thumb, but it was a crest or standard of some kind. He had missed that when he first looked at it. The details of the shield, however, were obscured by what appeared to be dried oil or soot.
Aladdin gathered up the end of his sash, spat, and tried to buff away the grime covering the new discovery. He could feel through the fabric the thin engravings, and with each pass of his thumb across the mark, more details were coming into focus.
The signet suddenly popped loose, or it depressed into the lamp. Aladdin could not be certain as when it happened, as a quick, hard jolt of pain shot through his hands, causing him to toss the lamp away. His fingers were tingling, and he felt a little confused and off-balance. He waved his hands back and forth, taking deep breaths, while shaking his head. The prickle under his skin began to subside, and his focus slowly returned.
He looked over to where he had dropped the lamp. The crest was a button? The lamp had some sort of deterrence built in. So, perhaps there was a cipher to this crest that prevented from triggering said deterrence. How very clever, Aladdin thought.
He reached for the lamp, and that was when the lamp jumped into the air, seemingly of its own accord.
From inside the vessel came a sharp, loud ping that repeated itself a second time. Then a third. With each ping the lamp jumped and spun in the air, until it became a rapid, sharp clatter, the lamp appearing to dance madly along the sand and brick. Aladdin stepped back as thin metallic extensions reached out from within the base. The lamp then righted itself on them.
Aladdin stepped back, his eyes narrowing on the metal plate now growing wider and wider. The metal was—beyond his reason and senses—stretching.
In fact, the lamp was growing larger before his eyes.
What was once a piece of metal easily carried in one hand had grown to half of Aladdin’s size. The bulbous reservoir was now pulsating as would a man’s chest when taking in great draws of air while the spout stretched and thickened, reaching down to the lid and balancing it just on top of the spout’s opening. The handle snaked around what now appeared as a waist, and try as the golden sash might, the bands of metal sagged under the weight and girth of the growing belly. The arms were also creeping from the hole in this brass giant’s back. Struts and coils of brass, gold, and silver intertwining like snakes around each other, taking on the look and texture of powerful arms. Aladdin swallowed nervously as the monster flexed its fingers, causing its sinews and muscles to move in concert with the digits. Considering the height of this beast was now well over twenty feet, those arms could easily squash Aladdin before he could move.
It stood tall, towering over him, and the pinging, grinding, and groaning. Silence returned, but only briefly.
Pop, and between the spout’s mouth and the lid, a ball of flame appeared. The lamp’s lid now looked like a tiny hat on this sphere. The polished surface of the lid and the massive body underneath it, cast light everywhere, making it slightly brighter in the cave.
Aladdin’s eyes narrowed as it saw color—no, details—in the ball of light. Two smaller fires danced and swirled where there would be eyes, and there was even a thin line of scarlet flame where he could easily imagine a—
“Oh dear,” the line of fire surged and shimmered as it asked, “did I startle you?”
He felt the ground shake, but Aladdin’s eyes never left the massive brass creature now looking down at him with glowing green eyes.
“Yes, that is the usual reaction I get.” The thing took a step back, and gave a slight bow. “Forgive my rather theatrical introduction, sir, but how can I help you presently?”
Aladdin understood the thing. It was speaking in a perfectly civilized manner. He however was having problems. “What— what—what…”
“And there is the stutter,” the creature muttered, shaking his head. “Let me try this again.” He looked around and then gave a quick little nod at seeing a large, golden column; it would have been used as a pedestal for a small statue, or as a centerpiece in a court square. Apparently, this thing was using it as a walking stick. A free metallic hand reached up and tipped the lid on its fiery head. “Sir, many thanks for freeing me from the land. You may call me Giles.”
That was when Aladdin saw it. The lid was no longer a lid. It was a bowler as the infidels wore—but made of brass. “Giles?” he finally stammered. “Giles the Genie?”
It nodded, giving a light shrug as it added, “Rather catchy, don’t you think?”
Aladdin went to say something but hesitated. “Well, yes now that you think on it.” He blinked. “A moment, if you please, but what exactly are you?!”
Giles placed his bowler back on his head. “I am the Genie of the Lamp.”
“No, no, no, no!” Aladdin protested. This was not the way his mother’s stories went. “You’re supposed to be a great and powerful spirit imprisoned within an ordinary object. You’re not supposed to be an automaton that pretended to be a lamp.”
“And flying carpets are not supposed to be homemade ornithopers made up of clockwork gears and rug scraps, now are they?”
Aladdin blinked. “You…you saw that?”
“Of course I did!” Giles said, with a mechanical wink. “Just because I was in my state of concealment does not mean I am completely blind, deaf, and dumb to the world.” For a moment, he loomed over Aladdin before picking up one of his legs and gently bending it. “Would you mind if we went for a walk? I would very much like to stretch the coils and struts, if you please.”
He motioned deeper into the cavern, and Aladdin tried to keep up as best he could. Looking up at Giles, he could now see the large, gaping maw that was his back but inside it were wild collections of rods, gears, and boilers of all sizes and shapes. From here extended all the various workings that comprised of Giles’ arms. The base that had grown to the size of a merchant’s cart was now connected to the torso by a large, thick trunk, its point of connection covered by the coils that also doubled as the sash Aladdin had originally envisioned. He did not walk so much as floated as the base remained suspended above the sand and stone floor by a small space of æther.
“How do you know the stories?” Aladdin asked.
When Giles looked down at him, he was smiling. “My creator. A brilliant woman, she was. Not only did she construct me to serve as her valet, she also used me as her library for all her stories.”
“All her stories?”
“All one thousand and one of them.” He motioned with his massive walking stick to a large pile of gold coins. His trunk inclined and he now appeared to be sitting, using the mountain of fortune as a settee. “Much like the magical creature of my mistress’ stories, I can enact amazing feats
of wonder, but my magic is confined to some rules of the mechanical sciences.”
Aladdin sat cross-legged at the foot of Giles, his head tilting to one side as he considered the automaton and its original size. “The rules of mechanical sciences?” he blurted out.
“Some of the rules,” Giles stated. “There are certain things I do that science cannot explain; the cost of such magic is my own limitations to the sciences.” He gave his walking stick a little twist into the gold underneath it and then motioned to Aladdin. “And there is, of course, my service, that my creator did make me swear an oath to. Therefore I am at your disposal until you send me away.”
Aladdin shook his head. “You are my servant?”
“I prefer the term valet. It sounds far more civilized, don’t you think?”
Giles was a peculiar contraption, Aladdin thought quietly, but he did make him smile.
“For something buried in the sand,” Aladdin said, looking up at the flickering face, “you certainly do not talk like a desert dweller.”
“Again, a trait of my creator,” he said. “She was inspired by some of the infidel explorers who touched upon our shores.”
“Which explains your strange tongue,” he added.
“One man’s ‘strange’ is another man’s refinement,” Giles huffed with a visible jet of steam.
“You are no man.”
Giles sat up straight on that, but then bowed his head to Aladdin. “This much is true.” He went quiet for a moment. “And, sir, should I call you, sir, or should I refer you by another term?”
“’Sir’ will suffice,” Aladdin replied, not quite certain what to make of this odd situation.
“Then Sir, if I may be so bold, I may give you my thanks.” Giles looked back in the direction they had come. “I was most relieved when you retrieved me from that other rather dodgy chap. I believe he would have employed me upon rather questionable pursuits.”
Aladdin nodded. “I would agree. The man would have me believe he was my uncle.”
Magical Mechanications Page 8
