by Aisha Saeed
“I’m Prince Kashif. What’s your name?” the prince asked.
“I am…Saleem.” Musa thought quickly. “I am here from Sulamandra,” he improvised, using the name of a nearby kingdom he’d heard much about recently.
“Ah, that fire.” The prince nodded sympathetically. “It was as bad as they say it was?”
“Oh, yes.” Musa nodded emphatically. “It was very tragic. It’s why I’m here.”
“What sort of work did you do?”
“What did I do? Well, I did many things. Um, I advised, mostly,” he said. “Or rather, listened. I’m a good listener for people who need to untangle their thoughts—sometimes a listening ear can be the greatest solution to the most difficult problems.”
A listener? Musa cringed. What sort of profession was this to have made up?
“Never heard of a professional listener,” the prince said. “But I like the sound of it. I’m on my way home and I could use a good set of ears for a situation I’m dealing with. I’ll pay you for your time. Let’s see how it goes?”
Musa’s heart surged with joy, and he climbed aboard the carriage.
One day turned to two, and then three, and soon Prince Kashif found Musa’s presence indispensable. Musa’s listening ears were truly the trick the prince needed to untangle his thoughts.
As the years passed and Musa’s status grew, he thought of his parents often. He sent them money regularly, but he knew it wasn’t money they longed for—they wanted their son. But he was not their son anymore. He was Saleem now—confidant to the prince, from a land across the sea. And though he liked the idea of this new identity, the true person within felt like a sagging weight.
One day, Kashif approached Saleem for a private word.
“You have been immeasurably helpful to me,” he told Saleem. “My father and I agree that it’s time I had my own advisor. And though you are an official listener, I would like to offer that position to you. It is a role of great trust, and I trust no one else more than you.”
Saleem swallowed. It was an honor; one he couldn’t have imagined when he’d arrived to this kingdom proper with hardly anything but a few coins all those years ago. But he felt a pang of guilt—Prince Kashif placed his trust in him, and Saleem hadn’t been honest about who he was.
Seeing the hesitation upon Saleem’s face, the prince smiled.
“Of course, you don’t have to decide right this moment. Think about it,” the prince reassured him. “In the meantime, come along with me to a great sporting match. I’m ashamed I haven’t taken you to one yet. You will love it.”
Before Saleem could ask what sort of sport it was, they were off in the carriage. People lined the streets and shouted in excitement. As they neared, Saleem’s heart dropped. The large stadium. The endless rows of seats.
“A bullfight,” Saleem said weakly.
“Yes,” the prince said. “Had you ever heard of this sport back in Sulamandra?”
Saleem swallowed as they took their seats.
A man in a tight black uniform entered the ring. He flashed his feathers with a flourish.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” an announcer bellowed. “Welcome to the two hundred fiftieth annual competition! Tonight, we have a special honor. Prince Kashif has graced us with his presence.”
The crowd rejoiced and chanted for the prince. He waved a hand and smiled.
“Will you bless us with a few kind words before we begin?” the man implored the prince.
Everyone cheered, and so the prince took the steps leading to the ring.
“Thank you.” The prince turned to the crowd. He spoke of his joy of leading the kingdom and extended his well-wishes to the bullfighter for the match to come. As he spoke, Saleem startled. The bull that was to be locked in its cage was free. The gate had come undone. It slowly made its way toward the people standing in the center of the ring.
Before Saleem could cry out a word of warning, the bull charged the ringmaster, who crumpled to the ground. The crowd grew deathly silent as the prince turned, his face pale as the bull now leaned and kicked at the ground. The bull’s handlers were running toward it and shouting at it to stop at once, but the animal’s eyes were bloodred with anger.
The prince would be next. In an instant, Saleem raced down the steps into the ring, running straight to the bull.
“No, Saleem!” shouted the prince. “Don’t!”
But Saleem was not Saleem now. He was Musa Bullknower. He walked up to the bull and asked it to lay down its guard. He understood the bull’s hunger. The pain the trainers had inflicted. He urged the bull to exercise calm. He hadn’t spoken to an animal in so long, and yet those dormant parts of him came to life as strong as ever. At the sound of Musa’s voice, the bull relaxed—and kneeled to the ground, like an obedient puppy.
As people whisked away the injured ringmaster and secured the bull back in its pen, the prince stared at his friend.
“You are a man of many talents, Saleem.”
“I am not Saleem,” he said quietly. “My name is Musa. Or at least, it once was. My family is from the farmlands and I spent my life here in this very kingdom raising and speaking to bulls. I lied to you when we first met. I was too ashamed of who I was. I do not deserve quarters in your palace or to be your trusted advisor. I am not the refined man you trusted.”
He bit his lip, waiting for the prince to declare the measure of his disappointment.
“I do not judge you for where you came from,” the prince said. “I judge you for the man you are. And you are refined and well-read and well-mannered, and you are also the son of bull speakers. And you saved my life today. You are both people, Saleem and Musa, and you have in my estimation risen tenfold for making your own mark in the world without any privilege to give you support or shade along the way. If you would be so willing as to take a seat as my advisor, I would name you Advisor Musa, or Advisor Saleem—whatever you would like to be called. And I would be honored for you to help me lead. Do you accept my position?”
“Perhaps we can find a way to modify this sport so it may entertain the people but not hurt the animals in this manner?”
“Sound counsel.” Prince Kashif nodded. “We shall. Does this mean you accept?”
Musa Saleem smiled then. He said yes.
AHMED WAS poring over a gray map spread out on an angled table when Jasmine and Ali stepped into his shop. The front door chimed as they closed the door. When he looked up and saw them, his eyes widened.
“Prince Ali. Princess Jasmine. I heard about what happened. The theft. I’m so sorry. I hope they find whoever did it as soon as possible. I was looking at a map of Ababwa right here to see if there were any passages or tunnels we haven’t explored yet. Haven’t turned up anything yet, but I’m going to keep on looking.”
“Thank you so much for that,” Jasmine said. “We were here because we were wondering if we could take a look at any local maps you might have that detail the undeveloped portions of Ababwa?”
“You think he’s out there?” The man stood up and scratched his chin. “Desolate and hard to really survive on the cliffside. I don’t believe there are any dwellings out in that part of the region. Those rocks are slippery, and the salty sea spray from the cliffs makes it an unpleasant place to be for long.”
“Perhaps he’s choosing to hide there because all those things will make it all the trickier for us to find him.”
“Well, that does make sense.” He nodded. “I have one map that might be able to help you. It’s still a work in progress, as I’m making it myself.” He removed a key from his drawer, walked over to a tall bookshelf, and unlocked a cabinet. Pulling out a scroll, he spread it across the table.
“This one shows the broad strokes of the undeveloped region of Ababwa. I began labeling the cliffs and valleys, just as a little fun hobby for myself. It’s not an official map per se, and it’s been ages since I looked at the thing.”
Jasmine pressed her hands against the map and traced the edge of the land
that jutted above the shore. “Ababwa is much larger than I realized,” she said slowly. She gestured toward the miles and miles of sandy cliffs and shorelines.
“There are so many hideaway spots.” Ali shook his head. “Look at all these caves and coves. He could be anywhere.”
“And the land is treacherous,” Ahmed warned. “Been there myself a few times to map it all out and more often than not walked away with scratches and bruises. Unless you know where on the map he actually went, it will be like trying to find one particular pearl in a great wide ocean.”
“I know where he went!” a small voice shouted.
“Where did that sound come from?” Jasmine said with a startle.
“Up here. You’re right under my nose.”
Looking up, Jasmine saw him. Jamaal, the boy from the marketplace. He was perched on the old wooden rafters of the store, watching them with wide-eyed wonder. A glass lantern swayed on a nearby rafter, showing the path he’d taken.
“How on earth did you get up there?” Jasmine asked.
“The bookshelf,” both Jamaal and Ali said at once.
“Every day that boy winds up somewhere that makes no sense.” Ahmed shook his head. “Will you get down from there before you break your neck and my rafters?”
“Sorry.” The boy grinned sheepishly before shimmying from the rafters to a wall and climbing down an oak bookshelf filled with books of maps.
“Better landing this time,” Ahmed said pointedly to the boy.
“You know where he went?” Jasmine asked the boy.
“Yes.” Jamaal nodded. “I mean, I think so. I was sitting on the apothecary store’s rooftop and saw a man in a tattered outfit hurrying away from town. I didn’t think much of it, but after hearing what everyone around town was talking about and the descriptions of the man, I think it’s got to be him. It was too dark to make out if he was holding anything, but he was heading over to the craggy cliffs past the docks and pier—to the left. The spot where all those caves crowd together. It must be him.”
“Makes sense,” Ahmed said. “He must be heading to the ‘Phoenix Trio.’ I named it that because the three boulders that lean into a cradle of sorts look like feathers from afar. It’s the rockiest part of the land—the waves crash louder there, and there are many caves one can hide in.” He pointed to a detailed spot on the map. “Even though it’s the closest spot to Ababwa proper, it’s the trickiest to navigate because of all those caves. I suppose that’s why he went there.”
“Have you ever been out there?” Ali asked Jamaal.
“No.” The boy shook his head. “I got close once, but it’s a little scary.”
“How far away is it?” Jasmine asked.
“It’s probably no more than eight minutes flat if I run really fast.” Jamaal hurried toward the door. “Just follow me. I can take you there.”
“No!” Jasmine and Ali said at the same time. Just like that, the boy’s eager expression faded.
“I can do it, though,” he said quietly. “I know this town like the back of my hand.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that. I’m sure you could lead us straight to him,” Jasmine reassured him. “But the thing is, whoever he is, he’s dangerous. You’re young, and as you said yourself, it’s a tricky place.”
“But I owe you both. For forgiving me. For sparing my life. I want to help.”
“You telling us where he might be is help enough,” Ali said. “We’d have spent hours looking around fruitlessly if you hadn’t.”
“May we borrow this map?” Jasmine asked the shop owner.
“Of course.” He nodded. “And when I see them, I’ll let the guards know where you both have headed.”
They thanked him and stepped outside the shop. Ali glanced at the road toward the pier and the boats swaying gently with the breeze. He hesitated for a moment before turning toward Jasmine.
“How about I just check out what the situation is?” he asked. “Maybe you could stay back here in Ababwa proper and see if you can help Ahmed summon the guards?”
Jasmine stared at him. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“You heard Ahmed. It’s dangerous out there with the slippery landscape and the caves. And this man may mean us harm. I don’t want Jamaal to get himself injured, but I don’t want you to get hurt either.”
“If you’re going, I’m going, and that’s that.”
“Jasmine, what if you—”
“I’m the one who is good with maps.” She gestured to the scroll in her hands. “We won’t find this place without it.”
“Looks like there is no changing your mind,” he said.
“We’re in this together,” she answered firmly.
The port that had looked inviting and regal in the daylight now looked ominous. With each step, they left the town square of Ababwa behind them.
“This is it.” Jasmine squinted at the map. “The path.”
“I can’t make it out at all.” Ali bent down to take a closer peek.
The path was covered in moss and grass, but taking a step upon it, they both felt solid cobblestone beneath their feet, buried beneath years of neglect. If not for the moonlight they’d have missed it entirely.
“Looks like it curves a bit,” Ali observed. Indeed, they could see that the thin patches of moss twisted and turned up a slope and then out of sight. From where Jasmine stood, she could hear the crashing waters against the cliffs. She thought of the sea-salted rocks and the unsteady boulders and hesitated. And then she thought of the magic carpet and how it must have been feeling right at that exact moment.
“Let’s go.” She nodded.
Together both Jasmine and Ali walked down the curved path. The wind picked up, pushing against them, as though warning them to stay back. And though neither of them knew for certain where this path would take them, or who might await them at the other side, both knew they had to keep going. There was no other option.
WITH THE MOON obscured by clouds, Jasmine’s and Aladdin’s eyes adjusted to the darkness until they could make out the landscape as they hurried down the path. Grainy pebbles underneath the damp moss crunched beneath their feet.
Following the map, they headed toward the site Ahmed had called the Phoenix Trio. The farther they walked, the more the landscape changed. It was so different here, in the parts of the land that Genie’s magic had not touched. Not just the obvious differences of walking so close to cliffs and ocean shores, but the color and texture of this part of Ababwa was starkly different. Gone was the brilliant sheen that hung over Genie’s charming cobblestoned streets, red and purple lanterns lighting the paths, and colorful curtains billowing out of windows; here there was almost no color at all. From the sky and the clouds floating above to the grass snaking across the trail and the deteriorated mountainscapes they walked by…everything here was—
“Gray,” Jasmine said, looking around. “Maybe it’s just because it’s night and there are no lights here. But everything looks a little more somber here, doesn’t it?”
Gray was the perfect word, Aladdin thought. This part of Ababwa felt as though an artist had begun a charcoal sketch but lost interest and wandered away.
The path curved again, taking them toward the edge of the cliffs. Jasmine and Aladdin took care with their steps, gripping one another’s arms over slippery stones. They paused and peeked inside each dark cave that gaped at them along the way, but they were all empty. Just then a strong gust of wind rushed over to them. It made their clothing rustle and their hair flow backward.
“Wow.” Jasmine covered her nose with her hand. “Do you smell that?”
“Salty. Like seaweed.”
“Like that man.”
They glanced about the desolate landscape and the hundreds of caves dotted along their line of sight. Where to begin?
“Wait.” Aladdin pointed to a formation in the distance, three enormous boulders pressed together in a semicircle of sorts. “Their tips are narrow and angled like feathers, sort of how Ahmed sa
id. Maybe those are the Phoenix Trio?”
“That must be it.” Jasmine studied her map and nodded. “Yes, that’s the place.”
The terrain underfoot grew wetter as they walked toward the boulders. Jasmine and Aladdin gripped one another’s hands to keep from falling. Beads of perspiration dotted Aladdin’s forehead. Caves yawned at them along the walkway, the wind tunneling through them as they passed by, howls piercing the night sky and sending chills down their spines. They paused to take in all the hideaway spots.
“What if he’s in one of these caves? What if he’s watching us right now? There are too many of them. He could find us first, and then what?”
“Wait,” Jasmine whispered. “Look.”
Aladdin followed her gaze, and then he saw it, too. At first, he was convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him. But there it was. Smoke billowed out from behind the Phoenix Trio. And then a flicker of light. Orange. It glowed from between the spaces of the boulders.
Quietly, Jasmine and Aladdin made their way toward the source of the light. Closer now, they saw that the boulders overlooked the jagged cliffs. They inched past cactus sprouting along the cliffside. And then both of them saw the opening—the gap between the boulders. The light glowed brighter. Everything felt like it had grown silent and still.
“It might be a trap. The flame is so bright,” Jasmine finally said to Aladdin. “It feels like he’s luring us there.”
“Why don’t you go and call for the guards?” he whispered.
“And what are you going to do?”
“I’ll go talk to him until you can get them over here.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with that man,” she whispered.
“Jasmine, it’s dangerous. We don’t both have to put ourselves at risk like this.”
“Are you serious? Do you honestly think I’ll let you go in there alone?”
“I know, I know. I just don’t want you getting hurt. Whatever is on the other side, it’s not good.”
