Wish Aladdin Retold

by Jade

  The jewelled thing looked like a blackberry bush from the cold climates far to the north, with ripe fruit begging to be picked and flowers promising more for tomorrow. And so lifelike – whoever had crafted this knew the real thing. Why, she could almost taste the delicious sweetness on her tongue, a delight she had not known for far too long. She reached out to touch a berry, the reassuringly cold jewel reminding her that this cunning creation was not real.

  "Who made this?"

  "I do not know, for she did not say. All she said was that it was a gift from her son."

  Maram's eyes met her father's. "Who is her son, who can afford to part with such a priceless gift? And why does his mother wear cheap widow's weeds when he has the coin for such magnificence?"

  "I will find out on the morrow, for I have invited the man to a private audience with me."

  Maram blew out her breath in a rush. Disappointment clouded her face. "Is that all you have to tell me?"

  Father laughed. "Indeed it is. Like the audiences of the legendary storytellers of old, you must wait another day to find out what happens next." He rose to depart.

  "Wait, Father, you forgot your shrub." She cradled the treasure in her arms, and offered it up to him.

  He smiled. "You keep it. I see in your eyes you appreciate its beauty truly, like your mother would have. Consider it a wedding gift, for something tells me it should be."

  He left, but Maram scarcely noticed, so busy was she in examining her new work of art. For that's what it was. A precious thing – why would anyone part with it, unless they needed to sell it to live?

  What kind of man gave such a gift?

  She wished she'd thought to ask her father to be present at tomorrow's audience, so that she might see the man for herself. But Father would have asked her to be there if he'd wanted her presence. He valued her opinion, and if he meant to keep this man at his court, she would meet him soon enough.

  And when she did, Maram resolved to ask him who his jeweller was, so that she might give the jeweller's name to Hasan and insist he create a garden of such things in her palace. One such shrub would bankrupt him for sure.

  Best not to have Hasan assassinated yet, then. First he had to build her a ruinously expensive palace. With emphasis on the ruin.

  TWENTY

  "Master, your palace is complete," Aladdin heard the djinn say.

  He wrenched his eyes open and wished he hadn't. The predawn light told him it was far too early an hour for anyone to be about. But he remembered Kaveh's warning, so he rose and dressed. "Show it to me, then," he said.

  The djinn waved his arm and a portal opened up in the east wall through which he could see the darkness of some other place entirely, instead of the rising sun he knew would be hitting that wall. The djinn bowed. "After you, master."

  Reluctantly, Aladdin stepped through the wall, from his mother's tiny house to a cool, spacious hall. Oh, this was exactly the sort of place where Maram belonged. Mosaic tiles stretched up the walls and across the ceiling, mirroring the night sky over the desert. Even the tiles underfoot were the exact colour of the desert sands.

  The djinn said nothing as Aladdin crept from room to room, unable to keep himself from staring. Having never seen the Sultan's palace, he hoped this would be good enough. It was certainly better than anything he'd seen in the prince's apartments in Tasnim. The bathhouse was an exact replica of the one where he'd first met Maram, including the towel storage alcove where he'd hidden. The djinn had not forgotten towels, either – the soft cloths were piled high, waiting for their royal mistress.

  Aladdin took a deep breath, and lost himself in memories of that day. He'd spent one perfect day with her, and it would have to be enough. She would live here with her new husband, and be so happy she never thought of Aladdin again.

  "You must see your audience chamber, master," the djinn said.

  Aladdin opened his mouth to say that no part of this palace was his, but there would be time for that later. Instead, he followed the djinn up a curving flight of stairs to the level above.

  The djinn had timed his entrance perfectly. As Aladdin stepped out of the archway into the hall, the morning sun hit the windows in a blaze of magnificence. For unlike the other windows in the city, these were closed in panes of glass and translucent gemstones. A veritable rainbow of colours cascaded down the walls to the floor, before dancing up to the ceiling from cleverly placed mosaic tiles that reflected light everywhere. A room designed to dazzle, which indeed it did.

  Aladdin lifted a hand to his eyes, lest he be blinded by so much brightness. "Now show me the garden."

  "Allow me," Kaveh said, leading Aladdin down the stairs again and into a courtyard in the heart of the palace. At first glance, he'd created what appeared to be a real garden, but when the morning sun touched the trees, it shattered that illusion into a thousand beams of light. Each berry and flower seemed to take on its own glow, glittering in harmony with each leaf and trunk, but it was nowhere near as blinding as the audience hall above. This place held a welcoming glow, inviting him to linger a little longer. Oh, if only he could, but this place was not for the likes of him. It would house Maram and her new husband.

  "It's perfect," Aladdin said, and was surprised to see both djinn swell with pride at the compliment. "I have another request. Is there any way I can see Maram's betrothed?" Seeing the man who had won the heart of the lovely princess would remind Aladdin why he would never be good enough for her, or this palace.

  "I shall bring him here directly," the djinn said, opening a hole in the wall.

  "No! I don't want him to know I'm there. I want to see him in his home, where I imagine he'd be asleep now," Aladdin clarified.

  Kaveh bowed. "I'd be honoured to help you. Invisibility is my speciality."

  Leaving the other djinn behind with his handiwork, Kaveh and Aladdin made their way through the near-empty streets to the Vizier's house, where the princess's soon-to-be husband lived. They entered the house and dodged between servants readying the house for the day. No one spared them a glance, buoying Aladdin's hopes that Kaveh had made them truly invisible.

  "The best bedchamber is this way," Kaveh said softly, leading Aladdin upstairs. "Don't worry, they can't hear us."

  "How do you know where it is? Have you been here before?" Aladdin asked.

  "This house has belonged to a long line of viziers. The man in office may change but the house does not."

  One day, Aladdin would ask Kaveh how old he was. Today was not that day, though, as he fought to catch his breath while they hurried up the stairs.

  Aladdin heard quiet sobbing, then a smack of flesh on flesh followed by a pained cry, like a child being spanked. Curiosity made him follow the sound into a grand bedchamber, but the scene he found made him wish he hadn't.

  A semi-naked slave girl, judging by what remained of her torn clothes, squirmed under a naked man who evidently took great pleasure in her tears and cries of pain as he bedded her. He clenched his fingers around her breast, squeezing until she let out a little scream, then backhanded her across the face, adding what would be another bruise to match her two blooming black eyes.

  "You like that, don't you, slut of a sultan's daughter? Answer me!" the man demanded. He hit her again, twice, eliciting more cries of pain. "Answer me!"

  Finally, the weeping girl whimpered, "Yes, master. Your touch honours me."

  "Louder!" he insisted, slapping her face again.

  Her voice rose to a shriek as she repeated the words, over and over, at his command, each sentence punctuated by another blow from the brute.

  Aladdin wanted to help the girl, but what could he do? He was half the man's size, and there were dozens of servants who would come to his assistance. Why weren't they coming to help the girl? For surely they could hear her...

  He stuck his head out of the open doorway. Sure enough, a steady stream of servants filed past, intent on their tasks for the day.

  The girl screamed, and Aladdin saw a serving g
irl flinch. She stumbled, then caught herself and continued past, hugging her arms to her chest. Arms bruised almost black in places, Aladdin noticed, matching her own fading black eyes.

  All the female servants bore the marks of this monster, he realised. All were young and pretty, or would be if not for the bruises. No older women worked here.

  "Is that the Vizier?" Aladdin asked. Even as the words left his lips, he knew they could not be true. The brute had not looked old enough to be the father of an adult son, old enough to marry Maram. Dread curled a cold tendril around his heart.

  "No, that is his son, Hasan, who will soon marry the princess," Kaveh said sadly.

  Aladdin swore. "Not while I live, he won't. If he lays so much as a finger on her perfect skin, I will kill him myself."

  How did a humble spinner's son stop the daughter of the Sultan from marrying whoever she wished? The Sultan would not listen to him. Perhaps if he was the Vizier's equal, or a prince...

  A bubble of inspiration burst in Aladdin's head, brighter than dawn in his own audience chamber. For it would be.

  "Kaveh, go to the alley behind the entrance to the marketplace. There you will find a number of men waiting to be offered work. Labourers, all of them. Tell them you come from me, and you will pay them a week's wages if they meet me at the gates of the city an hour before my audience with the Sultan."

  "What will you be doing?"

  "Persuading the servant of the lamp to make me look like the richest prince in the world. One who deserves not only that palace, but the princess, too."

  Kaveh grinned. "That's the spirit. I still haven't seen this princess of yours yet."

  TWENTY-ONE

  "Leave me," Maram commanded her attendants, and they did, leaving her alone in the bathhouse.

  Except...she wasn't really alone.

  "You may approach," she said softly.

  A dark-clad figure melted out of the shadows. "I was informed you might have a job for me."

  Maram turned a seductive smile on the hooded man. She did not need to see his face as long as he could see hers. "There is no might about it. If you are indeed the best assassin in the city, then I have a job for you."

  "There is no assassin better than me," the man said.

  Maram knew it was a lie, but this man probably did not. The best assassin she knew was out of the city, with no definite return date, so second best must do.

  "Then tell me. If someone paid you to assassinate the Sultan, how would you do it?" she asked.

  The man shook his head. "I would not take that job."

  "What about the Vizier?"

  "He is an old man. Old men are prone to clumsiness. If old age does not carry him off, perhaps he might stumble down some stairs, or trip and hit his head."

  The stories Maram had heard about this man were true. He was clever enough to make cold-blooded murder appear like an accident.

  "And what about the Vizier's son?"

  "He is young and strong, but death lurks in the most unlikely places. One of his servants might slip poison into his wine, for it is well known that he is a hard master."

  "What if someone asked you to kill a princess?"

  "You toy with me, Your Highness. I could kill you now where you stand, for you carry no weapon. By the time your servants came to your assistance, you would be dead." He bowed his head. "But an assassin with my skills has the freedom to choose which jobs he takes. And I would not wish to rob the world of your beauty, so you are safe from me. I do not kill women."

  She had heard this, too.

  "What poison would Hasan's servants choose, I wonder?" she said.

  The assassin produced a small pouch. "A little will send him to sleep, but enough will make sure he does not wake up."

  Maram nodded, satisfied. "Then I will pay you for it now, and on the night before my wedding, I ask you to meet me here once more, to complete the job." She held out a jingling purse.

  He exchanged his pouch for the purse, then paused to count his coins. "This is more than my usual fee."

  "You will receive the same again when your job is complete."

  He bowed deeply. "As Your Highness commands." He melted into the shadows once more.

  When she was certain he'd gone, Maram peeped into the pouch. She almost laughed. He'd given her opium, a drug she'd used more often than any other. A waste of good coin, but never mind. She had no doubt Hasan used the stuff, too, so it would be no surprise if anyone found the pouch in his house. Or in hers.

  She left the bathhouse deep in thought, only to find her guards on the steps outside, holding back a crowd.

  "What's going on?" Maram asked, craning her neck to see past her men.

  "There's some sort of procession in the street. Everyone's lined up to see some prince come to visit your father."

  She wasn't sure which of her men had spoken, for they were too intent on the street below to turn when they spoke to her. Gross disrespect she could have the man killed for, she knew, but Maram understood men better than most. Curiosity was a powerful thing, and she had no desire to inspire enmity in her father's guards. If she killed Hasan, she would need them to be sympathetic to her, or they might suspect.

  "A gold coin to the first man to tell me the prince's name, and where he comes from!" she cried, pulling the coin from her purse.

  A shout came from the crowd: "The Prince of Tasnim!"

  More shouts followed the first, but none seemed to know more than the name of his principality. It was enough. She handed the coin to one of her guards, who saw it went to its rightful owner.

  She need not have bothered. The prince's entourage appeared then, gaudily dressed men who threw fistfuls of coins into the crowd. Maram did not recognise the livery, for that was what it was – these richly dressed men were the prince's servants.

  After them came dancers, whirling in unison, so that their veils and skirts spun like tops. Finally, there were ranks of what she thought were porters, if a lowly porter could afford the silks these men wore. On their heads, they carried dishes piled high with gems much like those she'd seen on the jewelled shrub her father had shown her.

  Behind the porters rode a man on a horse so pale it appeared white – something no horse could in the desert, for the sands coloured everything they touched. But they could not touch this animal, as fine as any in her father's stable.

  The man...no, the prince, for he wore a crown nestled in the folds of his turban, threw coins into the crowd, too, earning a rousing cheer from everyone as he passed. Maram tried to get a glimpse of his face, to see if he was one of the princes she knew, but the cheering, waving townspeople made that impossible.

  The prince passed, followed by another company of coin-throwing servants, and the crowd closed ranks behind him to join the parade to the palace.

  Maram cursed inwardly and waited a long time until the road cleared before she commanded her men to clear a path for her to go home. Whoever this prince was, he'd intended to make a spectacle of himself, and she would soon know far more about him than she cared to.

  TWENTY-TWO

  When Aladdin prostrated himself before the Sultan, he had a sudden image of the Sultan commanding one of the guards to lop off his head before he could rise.

  No, he told himself. The Sultan was a wise and just ruler. He'd wait for Aladdin to speak and say something wrong before he executed him. Some reassurance. More than ever, Aladdin wanted to take to his heels and run home, but he knew he could not. He had to save Maram from that man.

  "Rise," the Sultan commanded.

  Aladdin rose onto his knees. "You Majesty, in thanks for your kind invitation, I have brought you a gift." He waved Berk and his men forward. They laid their baskets of jewels at the Sultan's feet, then bowed again.

  The Sultan's eyes gleamed almost as brightly as the jewels he surveyed. "Such a generous gift demands another in return. What would you ask of me, Prince of Tasnim?"

  Kaveh's whispers in the crowd had reached the Sultan's ears, then, as
he'd promised.

  "I ask for the Princess Maram's hand in marriage."

  The Sultan's eyebrows rose. "But she is already betrothed to another."

  No, she was betrothed to a beast of a man who did not deserve her. "So I have heard, but I understand there is a condition on the betrothal. Namely, her husband must build her a palace befitting such a priceless princess before the marriage can take place." He saw the Sultan open his mouth to respond, so Aladdin hastily added, "I propose a contest between her betrothed and myself. Whoever can build a palace that meets with her approval first, will win her hand."

  If the Vizier or his son were present, they would surely object, but the Sultan had granted Aladdin an audience alone, if the crowd he'd brought in his procession could be considered alone.

  The Sultan eyed him. "My daughters are precious to me, especially Princess Maram. I would not bestow them lightly on a man I do not know. I will consider your proposal for a day, and give you my answer on the morrow." He gave a wave of dismissal to signal the end of the brief audience.

  "Thank you, Your Majesty. But if I may add one thing...I took the liberty of building a palace beside your own which I had hoped would satisfy the princess. If you are of a mind to accept my proposal, I humbly request that Her Highness tell me how poorly I may have anticipated her wishes on the morrow." Aladdin held his breath. He had little hope that Maram would be present tomorrow, but if the Sultan denied that part of his request, he might be more inclined to accept the rest.

  "We shall see."

  Indeed we shall, Aladdin thought, as he and his men backed out of the audience chamber. Tomorrow could not come too soon.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Maram stabbed the needle through her embroidery, wishing she'd chosen to attend court today instead of going to the bathhouse to meet with the assassin. Now she'd have to wait until her father retired for the day before she heard what the prince had said.