“Jasmine?” “In here...” she called back wearily from her room, her voice choking
from the effects of a bad flu. Aladdin made his way through the door, into his wife’s personal
quarters. He found her lying on the bed. Judging from her puffy eyes and
sheet-marked skin, she had been napping. “Jasmine,” he said gently, moving toward her, “The party begins in an
hour, we probably ought to start getting ready.” “Oh, Aladdin...” she moaned, “I’m really not feeling well for some
reason. I don’t think I’m going to go.” “Oh, come on! It’s Emir Haroun’s masquerade! You can’t be feeling bad
enough to stay home from that!” Jasmine groaned in reply. Aladdin frowned. “You really aren’t feeling well, are you?” he asked, leaning toward
her. “No.” He sighed and sat down on the bed beside her. “Want me to stay here?” “No,” she croaked. “It’s okay. You go. You can at least tell me about
it when you get back.” “You sure?” “Yes...” she smiled weakly at him. “Go on. Go get ready or you’ll be
late.” Aladdin kissed her on the cheek. It was really too bad, he thought to
himself. Jasmine always enjoyed the Emir’s parties. Furthermore, not
realizing how ill she really was and expecting to be gone for most of the
evening, he had given almost all of the servants the night off. He didn’t
really like the idea of leaving her ill and unattended. Fortunately, that
would not be entirely the case; there was one maid who was set to stay
behind. “Should I send Dunizad in here to keep you company?” he asked. Jasmine murmured an affirmative, drifting back to sleep even as she
did so. Aladdin smiled vaguely and rose to his feet, crossed the marble
floor, causing a faint echo with each step he took, and then exited the
room. The Princess’s small palace (small being a relative term, for though
it easily filled a full city block, it was still undoubtedly smaller than
the Sultan’s grand palace) had been given to her as a wedding present from
the Bey of Taous. The hallways were tiled floor to ceiling in polished
silver, reflecting light so effectively that the whole corridor was
functionally lit with only two torches. Despite the excellent lighting, Aladdin nearly collided with Dunizad
as he stepped out of his wife’s room. Dunizad jumped back, startled, but
not making a sound. “Dunizad!” he exclaimed. “Just who I was looking for.” “You startled me,” she answered quietly, her eyes fixated on his left
shoe. “Sorry,” he answered. “Look, Jasmine’s not feeling too good, I wanted
you to go check on her and see if she needs anything; you know.” “Of course.” “Also, if she starts to feel better at all before midnight and
decides that she wants to go to the party, her costume and invitation are
in the sandalwood chest.” “Alright,” said Dunizad, not once making eye contact. As he watched her scurry off into Jasmine’s bedroom, Aladdin thought
about how lucky it was that Dunizad would be the one to stay home and care
for the princess. He was glad that if any member of the staff would be left
to care for Jasmine solo, it would be her. Though the girl was only twelve
years old, she had already been employed by Jasmine at the time that he
married her, and in the three years since he had never once seen the girl
make a mistake or behave improperly. An ideal servant. She had actually
been among the staff members who had converted him to the ways of the
socialite: when he first arrived at the palace, after the genie was gone,
he had thought to himself that he would do everything on his own and not
work the servants at all. After the first two weeks, the servants began to
complain; contrary to popular belief, not everyone likes to spend all day
doing nothing. Good naturedly, Aladdin had begun assigning them silly
little tasks just to keep them occupied. Then as time went on, he began to
think of jobs and chores he didn’t like doing, and took to assigning those
to the servants. By the end of the year he wasn’t even dressing on his own. Aladdin found his valet, Bazim -- the only other servant not getting
the evening off — waiting in his room, laying out the costume for the
party. This year, Aladdin would be attending Emir Haroun’s masquerade in
the guise of a bat. Had Jasmine gone along, she would have been dressed as
a dove. After being helped into his costume and checking on Jasmine one last
time, Aladdin and Bazim climbed into the carriage and rode off to the
party. Though the magic carpet was still in his possession, he had long
since ceased using it as transport to social functions: the novelty of the
magic was outweighed by the impropriety of traveling to formal gatherings
on a floor covering. It was simply airing ones dirty laundry in public, and
that kind of behavior was terribly bourgeois. A cluster of three men, all dressed in fanciful costumes, had
gathered in a quiet corner of the room, away from the other partygoers. “You say revenge?” asked Prince Asasad, who was garbed in a
spectacular parrot costume. “Revenge,” quod Haroun, who wore the habit of a Chinese emperor. “For
that stunt he pulled last year.” “What stunt?” Selim laughed from within his crocodile costume which, despite its
fine construction, stunning design and expensive price, he did not wear
handsomely. “You don’t know? I didn’t think it was possible for anyone
between Dakar and Aceh to have not heard about it!” “You’ve thought wrong,” Asasad answered. “Tell me. I’d like to know
exactly what it was Aladdin did.” Selim opened his mouth to speak, but Haroun cut him off. “I’ll tell it,” he blurted. He took a deep breath, hesitating
slightly before he spoke; the story still embarrassed him. “At last years
party, I admit I had a bit more than I should have to drink--“ “That’s an understatement,” giggled Selim. Haroun laughed politely. “Ah, yes. In any case, as the party was
drawing to a close, I passed out. Next thing I know, I’m waking up at the
edge of town, still in my elephant costume. Turns out that Aladdin and a
couple of his friends, seeing the state I was in, dragged me to their
carriage and rode out to the desert and left me there. I had to walk back
home, through the town, still wearing that ridiculous costume. That’s the
story.” “That’s all?” said Asasad, aghast. “For that harmless prank you’re
going to have him killed?” “Who said anything about killing him? Trust me, that’s the last thing
I want. What I’m out to do is put him through a similar humiliation.
Perhaps even top it.” “What are you going to do?” Haroun smiled. “When the time comes for him to leave, he should find
that his carriage has left without him, and much as I did a year ago, he
will be forced to walk home in whatever stupid outfit he has chosen this
year...” “Okay,” said Asasad, “But you forgot about his wife.” “Aladdin!” Selim cried loudly, spotting the prince entering across
the room. “We were just talking about you.” The bat approached them, smiling. “All good I hope,” he lilted. Haroun laughed. “I’d best not answer that.” He paused to let the
hugging, handshaking and bowing according to familiarity conclude. “How are
you doing? Wonderful costume, as usual.” “And you too, Haroun,” said Aladdin, examining his friend’s outfit.
“Playing it safe this year?” Haroun chuckled. “Yes, I admit it. Should I find myself in a
situation such as last time, I figure everyone will just mistake me for a
Chinaman and leave me alone.” They laughed pompously for a full five
seconds. “Oh, tell me, where is the lovely Jasmine?” “I’m afraid she isn’t feeling well,” Aladdin answered. “It looks like
she’ll be staying home this evening.” “She’s not coming?” Haroun frowned. “Such a shame. I had that baklava
she likes so much made... only I don’t see it out... pardon me for just one
moment, will you? I’ll see what’s keeping them in the kitchen.” As Haroun dashed through the crowd toward the other side of the
house, Selim picked up the conversation. “Aladdin,” he chimed, “Have you met my nephew, Prince Asasad?” Aladdin nodded. “Once, I think. Briefly, though.” Asasad nodded in return. “Haroun mentioned a prank you played last
year?” Aladdin grinned broadly as the memory flooded back. “Oh, yeah. It was
getting late, when suddenly he got so drunk that he toppled over...” Dunizad checked for the tenth time that Jasmine was really asleep.
Though she had given her an herbal tea to help ensure it, the young girl
was still very nervous. She had worked under the princess’s charge for five
years, and had all the while waited patiently, praying for an opportunity
such as this to come along. At last it was here, and she didn’t want to
screw it up. Her heart pounded loud enough to deafen a crowd and her limbs
felt wobbly as quince preserves when she opened up the sandalwood chest.
Surely if the princess was just going to sleep all night, she wouldn’t mind
her maid going out for a few hours? And it would be such a shame to let the
lovely costume go to waste... She dressed herself carefully. When finished, she found that the dove
costume fit her far from well, as it was constructed with the curvaceous
figure of the princess in mind. Dunizad’s body was not unlike a toothpick
in its shape. Still, it was only a costume rather than a formal gown. She
could get away with it. The invitation in hand, she wrapped herself in a black cloak and then
went about the next order of business: securing a mode of transportation.
She made her way into Aladdin’s room, entering cautiously, unsure of
precisely how to go about this. “Um... Carpet?” Dunizad called timorously. “Hello? Are you in here?” The magic carpet, which had been rolled up in a corner, sprang to
life. Startled, Dunizad took a step back from it. The carpet stood upon its
tassels before her, its gestures indicating that it was ready to listen. “Carpet...” she began again, averting her gaze. “... I was....
wondering if I could borrow you this evening?” The carpet responded by eagerly laying itself out at hip level in
front of her. Aladdin’s new fondness for courtly protocol was leaving the
poor rug feeling rather underused. Dunizad smiled and climbed on. “I need
to get to Emir Haroun’s home, but we can’t let anybody see us...” Dunizad yelped as she and the carpet went bolting out the window. About the same time that the carpet dropped Dunizad at the Emir’s
house, a visitor arrived at the princess’s palace. He bore the sinister
appearance of a foreigner and was dressed in a long black cloak and carried
a large black case. With utmost silence, he began to set up underneath
Jasmine’s window. The princess was soon to be in for a nasty shock. Dunizad’s smile was almost as big as the ballroom when she entered.
The white feathers and silks of the dove costume dragged dramatically
behind her. This was the only time in her life that she had attended a
party as a guest rather than a member of the waitstaff, and she was
determined to make the best of the occasion. She knew full well that she
might never have the chance again. Her first stop was the buffet table, laden with exotic dishes and
sweetmeats. Though she had tasted some of the offered foods before, it was
always in a picked-over, room temperature state: the leftovers. While in the process of stuffing herself, a handsome young man
dressed in a parrot costume asked her to dance. She gladly accepted, once
she was able to stop chewing. The parrot seemed to find it charmingly
amusing. “My lady,” he said, holding his hand out to her. Dunizad giggled at
being addressed by such a title. And thus, without knowing it, Dunizad danced away the next hour with
Prince Asasad of Trebizond. Jasmine was awakened from her almost coma-like sleep by the sound
coming from outside her window. It sounded like singing, accompanied by a
lute. Not particularly good singing, though. As she groggily pulled herself
out of bed, she could make out the words: “Ohhhhhhhhh... Oh, night as dark as rot! Oh, night with hue so black! Oh, night which is when day is not! Oh, night! Alack, alack!” Jasmine managed to stumble out onto her balcony. Gazing over the
alabaster railings, her eyes widened in shock as she saw who it was spewing
forth the pathetic serenade. “Oh, Allah! Prince Akhmed!” He stopped singing for a moment, bowing dramatically. “The same, my
dearest.” With that he resumed his song. “But through the night I see a
voice--“ “Stop!” Jasmine gasped, struggling to project her voice to Akhmed who
stood twenty feet below. “Please!” Akhmed did as asked. “Look,” Jasmine continued, “I don’t know what you’re trying to do,
but I’m really not feeling well tonight, so I must ask you--“ “Ask away, my dearest!” cried Akhmed. “I am at your command! Your
humble servant! Wait--“He put down his lute and began trying to climb the
ivy growing on the wall up to princess’s window. All he succeeded in doing
was tearing the vines to the ground. With a groan, Jasmine shuffled back into her room. Laughing, Dunizad and Asasad flew from the dance floor through the
crowd, looking for someplace to sit down and rest. They located a corner
where a carpet and pillows had been set out, and made themselves
comfortable. They soon found themselves joined by Selim and his wife,
Zaida. “Asasad! There you are!” Zaida chirped, trying to figure out how to
sit down without mangling her rather unusual costume of a bird being
consumed by a cat. “I was starting to worry I might not see you! Where’s
your brother? Honestly, I can’t understand why you two decided to stay with
the Emir instead of with us. Oh, my, how you’ve grown!” Asasad blushed slightly. He spoke to Dunizad. “My aunt Zaida, and my
uncle Selim.” Dunizad extended her hands to them. Zaida smiled. “What a charming girl,” she said. “What’s you name, dearie?” Dunizad’s smile vanished. That was something she hadn’t thought
about. Should she give her real name? “Ah... my name... is... Du...
Julnar?” “Dijulnar?” asked Zaida. “Such a lovely name. Is it Indian?” “Um, yes.” “Is that where your family is from?” Dunizad smiled and nodded. “What a linguist!” said Selim. “I haven’t heard even a hint of accent
talking to you.” “I had a very good teacher,” answered Dunizad, nervously. “So you’re nobility, then?” pried Zaida. “How else would I get into a party like this?” Zaida laughed. “How silly of me. Of course. Have you met the local
royalty? Oh, Aladdin!” Zaida stood and began waving her fleshy arms above
her head, trying to catch his attention. Dunizad froze. “Um. Actually...” she turned to Asasad. “Hey, let’s go
dancing again! I feel up for it now!” “What’s the rush?” he asked. “Stay for a minute and meet Aladdin.
You’ll like him. He’s very pleasant.” “But I’ve already...” Too late. He was already approaching them. Zaida waved him forward.
“Come here, Aladdin,” she called, “I want you to meet Asasad’s new friend.” Dunizad desperately tried to cover her face as Prince Aladdin in his
bat costume arrived before her. He smiled politely. “And who would this lovely lady be?” he asked. “Lady Dijulnar,” Asasad answered. “She’s from India.” “India? Really? I’ve never been there,” Aladdin remarked. “Tell me
what it’s like.” Dunizad hesitated. “Umm... it’s nowhere near as nice as your lovely
kingdom, my lord,” she squeaked. Selim laughed. “Further proof that we live in the finest kingdom in
the world!” Aladdin nodded, then bent down close to Dunizad and whispered: “If I
didn’t know better, I’d say you were one of my maids dressed in my wife’s
costume.” Dunizad said nothing. Aladdin straightened again and smiled. “Well,
it was very nice meeting you. I expect I’ll see more of you soon. But now,
if you don’t mind, I was about to tell the story of what happened to Haroun
last year to some friends of mine. Excuse me.” “Of course, my lord,” mumbled Dunizad. “We’ll make a point of speaking again before the end of the end of
the party,” chimed Zaida. “Certainly,” said Aladdin before heading back into the crowd. Jasmine had almost gotten back to sleep when her bedroom door flew
open. Startled, she flipped over to find Akhmed standing in the doorway,
his lute in his hand and a rose in his teeth. He strummed a chord, spit out
the flower and began to sing. “Not May-time’s kalends nor leaves of beech-trees nor singing birds
nor blooming flowers...” “Akhmed...” whined Jasmine. “...Oh worthy, joyful and lovely girl, until it happens...” Suddenly Jasmine realized that she and Akhmed were alone. Of all the
nights to give the servants time off! “Dunizad?” Jasmine called, pausing briefly to clear her throat.
“Dunizad? Where are you?” “...To bring me news about your love for me. And I’ll rush...” “Oh, Akhmed, please!” Jasmine screeched. “Stop that!” “There are five more verses.” “I don’t care. Look, even if I was feeling well tonight I would have
no desire to see you, and furthermore, if someone happened to find us alone
like this, in my bedroom, with my husband gone...” “If no one’s here, then who’s to see us?” “My maid, Dunizad, who seems to have stepped out for a minute... also
the guards I’m going to call to throw you out unless you leave here on your
own accord at once.” “The guards?” Akhmed began to cackle. “My lady, I had to deal with
the guards on my way in here. They found my pockets full of many, many good
reasons to not only grant me entry and leave me to my own devices, but also
to quit their jobs permanently.” Jasmine blinked in astonishment. “It looks like you’re going to have to hear me out.” He strummed a
chord on his lute and grinned at her. “Any requests?” “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go,” said Dunizad. “So early?” asked Asasad. “Yes, I have to be up early tomorrow. But this has been a wonderful
evening! I’ve never been to a party like this before.” “You must not go out much. In my kingdom, we have such parties that
people come all the way from the Frankish land to attend.” “Really? Oh, I wish I could see them.” “What’s stopping you?” Dunizad blushed and looked away. “I really have to get going. My ride
should be here soon.” Dunizad was the last thing on the mind of the magic carpet. Being a
curious creature, it had traveled into the princess’s room, hoping to
discover the source of the horrible noise which filled the halls of the
empty palace. It peeked around the door to find Jasmine lying face down on her bed,
clutching pillows over her ears, while Prince Akhmed stood at the foot of
the bed, playing his lute, singing loudly and off-key. “...Yet you still should ask me why? Love! The word that makes me sigh! Love! I could almost, almost cry! Love, oh, Love! ‘Twere it not for love I’d die! And you know I cannot lie! Yes, it’s Love that lets my heart fly!” The carpet was as appalled as anyone by such doggerel. Gathering
courage, it puffed itself up, trying to appear as threatening as a rug can
be; it was up to it to rescue Jasmine. Stealthily, silently, it slipped into the room and began to sneak up
behind Akhmed, who was distracted by a particularly complicated run in the
song. He was actually a pretty good musician as long as he didn’t try to
sing. Just as he opened his mouth to begin the next verse, the rug closed
itself around his head. Startled, he dropped his lute to the ground and
began clawing at the carpeting over his face. As this happened, Princess Jasmine, curious as to what cataclysmic
event had brought about the cessation of Akhmed’s warbling, turned herself
over to face him. To her relief and furthermore, amusement, she found him
flailing blindly about the room, running into walls and furniture, trying
to pry the magic carpet off of him. The carpet, meanwhile, struggled to
move him toward the closet. Unfortunately, when the struggle got about a foot away from the door,
Akhmed succeeded at last in tearing the rug from his head, and instantly
counteracted its efforts by trying to push it into the closet in his stead.
Witnessing this, Jasmine sluggishly got out of bed and went to assist the
carpet. Clinging desperately to the doorway with its tassels, the carpet
fought and contorted, trying to hold its ground, while Akhmed leaned in,
pushing it with the full weight of his body. Meanwhile Jasmine crept up
behind the prince, tiptoeing as close as she could. Then suddenly she made
her move. Pushing him with all the force she could, she lost her footing in
the process, and like a domino rally, all three beings fell in. As the carpet tried to help the fallen princess back to her feet,
Prince Akhmed, seeing his chance, leapt up and raced out of the closet,
slamming the door behind him. At the sound of the bolt being locked, Jasmine and the carpet both
crumpled to the floor. She languidly rolled her head back so that she was
staring at the ceiling. “I should have gone to that party,” she muttered to herself. “You’re not going to wait out there all alone, are you?” Asasad was
still trying to keep Dunizad from leaving. “That was the plan, yes.” “Sweet Dijulnar, that’s no place for a lady to be alone in the middle
of the night, especially after one of the Emir’s parties. The streets are
paved in drunken guests. I must insist that, if you won’t allow me to take
you home myself, you at least allow me to wait with you.” “Oh, alright,” she said with some reluctance. “You can wait with me.”
Surely it would take more than seeing her ride Aladdin’s magic carpet to
give her away. In fact, she realized, something like that might even serve
to impress him further. She smiled happily at him as she lead him off to
her arranged rendezvous point. On their way out the door, the young couple passed by Haroun and
Aladdin. “It’s been an excellent party,” said Aladdin. “Oh, you’re not leaving yet, are you?” “Ah, I’m afraid so,” answered Aladdin. “Jasmine’s waiting for me.” “Well, stay just a few minutes longer, will you? There was something
I had wanted to show you. Please, follow me.” Aladdin laughed. “You’re not going to lead me to some hidden dungeon
and box me in there, are you?” Haroun replied in his spookiest voice. “Oh, of course not.” He broke
into laughter. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing of the sort. Come.” In fact, Haroun wanted to show him his prized music box. It was
famous, and though everyone knew of it, very few had actually seen it. It
was made of solid gold, adorned with gems and pearls. Miniature figures
within were capable of dancing and moving with the music. The mechanics
were such that the box could accurately impersonate the sound of a full
instrumental ensemble. A screw on the side could be rotated to program one
of five songs into playing. Once given access to it, Aladdin ended up
spending nearly a full hour playing with the device, listening to the songs
and observing the figures. “This is amazing,” he remarked. “I should get one of these. Where was
it made?” Haroun chuckled. “If it pleases my lord, he may have this one. It is
a gift.” “Oh, no, I couldn’t--“ “Go on. Take it. You can give it to Jasmine as an apology.” “Apology?” “I’m sure she’s unhappy at not having been able to attend this years
party.” Aladdin took the box from the table. “Ah, I see. I’m sure she’ll love
it.” “Well, my dear prince,” said Haroun, leading him toward the door,
“That is all I have for you. If there’s nothing else you want, then I
shouldn’t keep you any longer. In fact, I believe you’re the last person
still here.” “Yeah, I ought to get going.” “Here. Let me walk you out.” From the house, the bat and the Chinese emperor sauntered side by
side. And though Aladdin’s carriage should have been waiting for him out
front, they found nothing in the spot but a drunken Moor dressed in a
butterfly costume. “What in the world...?” Aladdin began to search around him, wondering
if maybe Bazim had moved the carriage elsewhere. At the sound of Haroun’s
laughter, he realized exactly what was going on. He laughed in turn. “I get
it. Clever.” “Be sure to let me know how the walk home goes.” Aladdin shot him an irritated glare, but managed to maintain his
smile throughout. “Bazim is going to be hearing from me once I get back.” “Your valet? Oh, no, don’t blame him. I set it up to all look very
official. He thinks you made other arrangements and so had him sent away.” “Perfect,” Aladdin muttered. “I’m sure all the street urchins and miscreants out at this time of
night will adore your bat costume.” Aladdin had to hold back a rude comment and accompanying gesture.
Instead he turned, maintaining his poise and good sportsmanship, and with
his head held high began the journey back to the palace. Dunizad and Asasad stood at the side of the road, cloaks wrapped
tightly over their costumes, waiting impatiently for her ride to come. They
had been standing around for forty minutes already. Dunizad was glad that, if nothing else, she hadn’t mentioned to
Asasad that her mode of transportation was to be a flying carpet. Under the
circumstances he would surely have thought her a liar. She glanced upward
at the sky, hoping to see it fluttering toward her, but with no luck. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Where could it be?” “I think it is safe to bet that if they are not here by now, they
don’t intend to be. That being the case, it is my duty as a gentleman to
walk you home myself.” Asasad smiled and offered his hand. Dunizad
smiled in return and accepted. The couple walked at a brisk pace through the darkened streets for a
total of three and a half blocks when it so happened that a familiar
looking carriage caught the eye of Dunizad. She recognized the driver; it
was Aladdin’s valet. She instantly released Asasad’s hand and went chasing
after the vehicle as it trundled along, waving her arms, trying to flag it
down. “Hey! Stop! It’s me!” The driver, Bazim, recognized her immediately and pulled to a halt. “Dunizad?” he asked, clearly surprised. “What are you doing here?” Dunizad frantically began signaling for him to stop talking. “Sorry I
wasn’t waiting where I said I’d be, but I had given up on you,” she spoke
rapidly, trying to salvage the situation. “Did Prince Aladdin finally
decide to ride with us?” Bazim knew that something was going on, though precisely what he
could not tell. Figuring he had nothing to lose, he began to play along.
“Ah... no. Aladdin made other plans, it seems.” “Oh, well, that’s alright. That just leaves more room for me and my
friend here, PRINCE Asasad.” Bazim raised an eyebrow. “Prince Asasad, you say? Well, okay. Get in.
And I’m taking you to the palace, then?” “Correct,” she answered. Leaning in toward Bazim with a mischievous
smile on her face she whispered, “...And take the long rout if you can.” As Aladdin trod wearily through the town, he did his best to ignore
the looks he was getting from those few people still about at this time of
night. Real creeps, most of them. How it brought back memories. Turning a corner, he found before him two of the town guards. Their
eyes met, and the men came toward him quickly. One was a small, wiry-but-
strong fellow called Nasir; the other was tall and had enough meat on him
to drive a cannibal into hysterics. This was Erfan, and it was he who spoke
first. “We’ve been told there’s a crazed lunatic who’s been prowling the
streets in this area. We’d like you to come with us.” Aladdin laughed in reply. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m not a crazed
lunatic, I’m the Prince.” He regretted his phrasing immediately. Nasir acted shocked. “Oh! Forgive us, your majesty! Tell me, do you
go lurking through the town dressed as a bat every night, or only when
there’s a full moon?” Aladdin found himself hoisted up by the two strong men and carried to
the back of their wagon so quickly his mind couldn’t even register it. As
they began to chain him in, Nasir noticed the music box clasped in his
hands. “What’s this?” he asked, prying it away. “Stolen property?” Erfan took the box and began to peruse it. “It looks like that music
box Emir Haroun al Fouadabbas owns.” “Wait! He gave that to me!” Aladdin protested, struggling with the
chains. “Look, if you’ll just allow me to explain...” “They always want to explain,” said Erfan. “All it does is waste
time.” “No, really! Listen to me! I’m Prince Aladdin! The Sultan’s daughter,
Jasmine, is my wife! I know how this looks, but it’s really a very simple
story. I was at the Emir’s costume party tonight, and before I left he gave
me the music box as a present.” “Really now,” sighed Nasir, clearly unconvinced, “Then why aren’t you
riding home in your royal carriage?” Aladdin suspired heavily. “The Emir had it sent away as revenge for
making him walk home in his costume last year.” The guards began to laugh. “You expect us to believe that story?
Everyone knows that legend about the Emir walking home in a donkey costume
didn’t really happen.” “Elephant,” Aladdin corrected. “What?” “It was an elephant costume-- anyway, look, if you go over to the
Princess’s Palace, she’s there right now, she’ll back up everything I’ve
told you. Trust me.” “Yeah, right,” snorted Erfan, hopping into the front of the wagon. “Look, just do it,” Aladdin commanded, speaking in low tones. “If I’m
lying, the princess will say so and there’ll be no harm done. If I’m
telling the truth, and you do this for me, I’ll probably let you keep your
jobs afterwards; something I might not be inclined to do if I have to spend
the night in jail.” Erfan looked skeptical. He turned to Nasir. “What do you think?” Nasir sighed. “Oh, let’s humor the boy.” Jasmine was tired, ill, and really in no mood to deal with the events
unfolding around her. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep off
the influenza which was making her so miserable. Alas, she was instead
locked in her closet along with the magic carpet, and left at the mercy of
her former suitor, Prince Akhmed. Jasmine crawled over to the door and began to rattle it as she
yelled. “Akhmed! Come on, open the door!” “Why should I?” he asked, standing before the quivering slab of
walnut-wood. “I have you right where I want you.” “This is where you want me?” she called back . “I’d think you were
closer to that goal while I was in bed.” “That’s true. But things weren’t going nearly so well then, now were
they?” She pounded the door one last time with her fist. “You have to let me
out of here sometime!” “Do I? Well, how about this. We’ll make a deal. Say... slide your top
out under the door, and I’ll let you out of there.” Jasmine’s jaw dropped. “What?! You... you... oh!” She was at a loss
for words. She moved closer to the doorframe and began to yell out through
the crack. “My husband will be home any minute, you know! When he sees what
you’ve been up to--“ “He’ll find it worthwhile to start a war between our countries?
Really?” Akhmed laughed. Jasmine slid to the floor, sighing. She gave the carpet a pleading
glance, but all it could offer in return was a shrug. She closed her eyes,
feeling rather lightheaded from fever. Surely, she thought to herself,
Aladdin would be home soon. She could wait till then. Asasad scooted closer to Dunizad, a smile on his handsome lips. “So,”
he began, “Why did your driver call you ‘Dunizad’ when you stopped him?” Dunizad’s heart began to pound. She forced a laugh, trying hide her
worry. “Ah... well... in India, ‘dunizad’ is a title, you know? Like ‘my
lady,’ kind of.” “Really? A very pretty word. Shall I call you Dunizad instead of my
lady?” “If you’d like.” He moved even closer to her and took her hand. “Dunizad, do you love
me?” She began to blush. Her eyes glanced quickly toward Bazim, to ensure
that he wasn’t listening to her. “Yes,” she answered quietly. “Then let’s get married!” Dunizad blinked. Her shy smile instantly switched to a confused
frown. “Wha...?” was all she could stammer. “Let’s get married. My father was telling me just before I left for
Agrabah that, since I’m 14 now, it’s time for me to choose a wife. And I
choose you, if you’ll accept.” Dunizad was speechless. Bazim, who had been listening afterall, spoke
up. “I think you ought to accept,” he said. She turned toward him. “But... we just met this evening...” “Dunizad,” Asasad murred, “I love you with all my heart. I want to
take you to Trebizond with me, and make you my princess. Will you turn me
down?” Dunizad began to fidget nervously. The offer seemed exceptionally
good, however... “Oh... I don’t know...” she squeaked. “It’s a big decision... and you
really don’t know anything about me at all...” “Like that you’re actually one of Aladdin’s maids wearing his wife’s
dress? I know that.” Dunizad’s eyes widened to the size of pomegranates. “What? You did?
How?” “I heard you talking to Aladdin at the party. I must say, that man
has the loudest whisper I have ever heard.” “But... if you knew... then why didn’t you say so?” “You never did. Why should I?” “And why did you keep playing along, asking me about India and my
servants and all that?” “I wanted to see if I could trick you into giving up. My darling... I
assume your real name is Dunizad?” She nodded. “Dunizad,” he began, speaking seriously. “There is no way that my
family will ever allow me to marry a servant girl. But-- assuming you want
to, of course-- if you can keep up that game for about a month, they’ll
find us already married. I doubt they’ll try to oppose it then. What do you
say?” Dunizad smiled and looked into Asasad’s eyes. “Okay,” she answered. She and Asasad kissed. Bazim momentarily released the reigns to
applaud for the new couple. Nasir made his way up the stairs to the princess’s palace, thinking
it quite strange that there didn’t seem to be any guards around. Erfan and
Aladdin remained behind in the cart. Reaching at last the large cast-lead doors, Nasir knocked loudly, and
waited. And waited. After a full minute had passed, he knocked again. Still
another minute passed. Surely, he thought, someone should have answered by
this time. He decided to push the doors open himself and check inside. Taking a small step into the room, he called out loudly, letting his
voice echo off of the marble walls of the foyer. “Hello? Is anyone here?” He listened. Growing rapidly louder was the sound of someone rushing
down the hall. Finally a well-dressed man-- too well-dressed to be a
servant-- came into the room, breathless. Nasir bowed slightly. “Who is it?” the man asked, clearly agitated. “What do you want?” “I’m sorry, my lord,” said Nasir, feeling as if he should avert his
eyes in the face of such nobility. “I was expecting one of your staff.” “There’s been some trouble with the staff tonight,” said Akhmed.
“Tell me what you want.” “Ah, my lord, I ask to please speak with the princess.” Akhmed’s frown deepened. “I’m afraid the princess is indisposed at
the moment.” He paused. “Can I be of any help?” “Well, yes, I suppose so. You see, we picked up a man in a bat
costume, and he insists that Princess Jasmine is his wife. Would you be
willing to come outside and take a look at him?” “To identify him?” “Yes.” Akhmed suddenly smiled. “I can tell you without having to set foot
outside this room that I am the only prince currently residing in the
palace. Whomever you have outside is surely a madman.” “So you’re Prince Aladdin?” “Yep.” Nasir nodded slowly. “Alright, thank you for your time, my lord.
Sorry for having disturbed you at such an hour.” “No trouble,” said Akhmed, herding Nasir toward the door in the most
polite manner he could. “I know that if I had actually been arrested in a
bat costume, I’d be upset if the guards wouldn’t allow me to confirm my
identity.” They stood in silence as he waited for Nasir to leave. Finally
realizing this, the guard backed out the door. Akhmed slammed it in the
man’s face. Alone once again, Akhmed suddenly burst into laughter. Happily, he
sauntered back to the princess’s room and sat down in front of the closet
door. “I have some excellent news,” he said, yelling to her. “Allah,” she moaned, changing her posture so that she leaned her back
against the door. “What is it now?” The glee in Akhmed’s voice could not be disguised. “It seems that
your husband will not be making an appearance at the palace for some time.
He’s been arrested.” Jasmine’s eyes widened. She turned and pressed her ear against the
door to ensure that she heard correctly. “What?! What do you mean?!” “They found him walking the streets in a bat costume and took him
in.” “But if they knew it was him--“ “They didn’t. They came here asking if he was telling the truth about
his identity. I decided it was best not to insult your honor by telling
them you’ve been alone in the palace all night with a man who’s not your
husband...” Her jaw nearly hit the floor. “You pompous... posing... pox-
scarred... jackal!” she gasped. “Such flattery,” was his apathetic reply. “It won’t get you anywhere,
though.” “You’re certainly right that it’s flattery! If I were being perfectly
honest, I’d say you were a scrawny, vacillating, mirror-obsessed, brainless
pervert! My husband, indeed! I’d sooner have a diseased rat as my husband,
so that I might be able to feel some affection for him!” “Such a sharp tongue! If only it were a sign of a sharp wit, you’d
have gotten yourself out of this situation a long time ago.” “Like you’re the paragon of wit. You’re so stupid that you thought
‘venerable’ was the kind of disease you have.” “Who the devil told you about that!” “I have my sources,” she said with a smirk. Akhmed crossly folded his arms over his chest. Score one for the
princess, for indeed it was true that he had long suffered from syphilis.
Still, he was not about to let her win. “Funny your should bring that up,” he hissed, “For your mode of dress
quite calls to mind the very street-whore who gave it to me. I understand
your husband was once a street-rat himself; is that how you met him?” “Unlike you, my husband never had to resort to hiring his
companionship off of a corner.” “It’s unfortunate that the same can’t be said of your father.” Jasmine required a moment to comprehend his meaning. Her eyes widened
and her jaw dropped. She screeched angrily, not saying any actual words.
Akhmed began to laugh. “And thus it appears that I have bankrupted your
wit! Not surprising, for truly you have more hair than brains, all the more
remarkable considering that you wear a wig.” “And you wear a merkin!” she snapped back. Akhmed flinched: two points. “Well...” he stammered, trying to think
of a clever comeback to that one. “Well... go rot!” Aladdin stepped on the wired silk wings of his costume as he was
brutally pushed into a jail cell, causing him to trip and fall. The door
closed and locked behind him as he rose again to his feet, sighing. How had
this all happened? Perhaps the thin guard has lied about what he was told?
No, only an idiot with a death-wish would try something like that. Maybe,
then, Jasmine had left for the party afterall, and when the guard had found
the palace empty, made up a story? No, that didn’t make sense, especially
since Jasmine’s costume and invitation were in use by Dunizad. What else
could it be? The guard had implied that it was a man he had encountered,
and the only man likely to be in the palace at that time was Bazim, having
returned from the party. But then, why would Bazim have claimed the prince
was already there? None of it made any sense. Aladdin tried to sit comfortably on the cold stone floor. Jasmine
would turn up soon enough to get him out... or would she? If only he knew
what had caused the confusion, he would know what to expect. If, in the
unlikely event that Jasmine had for some unknown reason been responsible
for reporting that her husband was at home already, it meant either A) She
believed that he was home, or B) She didn’t want him home. Either way, his
chances for a swift rescue appeared slim. Otherwise, she might have been
unable to get to the door for some reason, either because she was not home
or too sick; but again, it wouldn’t leave him much hope of being rescued
before dawn. It looked like he would have to escape. There had to be some way
out... “You, my lady, are an underdressed top-heavy prudish indiscriminant
whore!” “And you, my lord, are an overdressed disease-ridden boney pseudo-
intellectual horn-beast!” Akhmed and Jasmine were still at it, despite the fact that both had
run through their supply of intelligent insults. Both were now reduced to
simple name calling: a battle of vocabularies. “A cavernous, stretched out...” “A shriveled, worm-eaten...” “Puerile, feeble-minded...” “Doltish, irrelevant...” “Libertine...” “Extravagant...” “Pretentious...” “Incontinent...” “Pornographic...” “Deranged...” “Debauched....” “Depraved...” “Virago!” “My dearest!” “What?!” That was absolutely the last thing Akhmed expected to hear. Jasmine’s voice gasped in a seductive call through the door. “My
dearest Akhmed,” she gushed, “All my life I’ve waited for a man such as
you; one who can not only best me in wits but who also treats me like the
filth that I am! I succumb to you! Here.” At that, Jasmine’s turquoise bra-top slid out from under the closet
door. Akhmed couldn’t believe his eyes. He lifted the garment to his face,
checking to ensure that it was really there. He had never expected her to
actually give in to that request. He tossed the top aside, still gaping. “You want to come out then?”
he asked, attempting to conceal his shock. “Yes, my darling!” Jasmine crooned sexily before dissolving into a
coughing fit. Eagerly, Akhmed unlatched the closet door. He just had to see this... “It’s open,” he announced. He was greeted by a fierce Amazonian battle-cry as Jasmine, still
fully clothed, charged forth carrying a makeshift spear that had previously
been part of the doorframe. The top she had slid to Akhmed had been located
in the closet, in a box containing twenty-two others that were identical to
it. Dressing the same way every day had some advantages. The magic carpet swooped out behind her, tackling Akhmed and knocking
him to the ground. He began frantically swatting at it with the bra-top,
but to no avail. The carpet pinned him to the floor. Jasmine, with a wild
look in her eyes, raised the spear over her head. Akhmed gasped, certain
that he was about to die. Just as she was going to plunge the spear down and impale the
ferociously palpitating heart of Prince Akhmed, another coughing fit sent
her buckling away from him. “Oh-- *cough cough*-- curse it-- *cough cough cough*” She aimed the
croups into her arm till they at last subsided. “Pardon me,” she said, straightening up again. At that, she raised
the spear once more and took aim, then swung her arm downward. Akhmed
prepared to scream. Just then a timid voice came calling from across the
room: “Um... my lady?” Jasmine and Akhmed both froze. Both turned their heads to find the
source of the voice. Their eyes landed upon Dunizad, who stood in the
doorway accompanied by Prince Asasad. “Dunizad?” Jasmine yelped. Suddenly her attitude changed. She threw
the spear to the ground and angrily turned her attentions upon her maid.
“Dunizad! Where have you been! Do you know what’s been going on here?” Dunizad and Asasad both gaped, stunned. “Uh... I do not, my lady...” the staggered girl replied. “...But
judging from this scene it’s not been good.” Asasad began to move toward the man lying recumbent, pinned by the
carpet. “Akhmed...?” he asked, growing even more confused. “Is that you?” Akhmed looked at the young prince. Recognition was immediately
apparent. “Asasad?” He suddenly began squirming toward him, pleading. “Oh,
Asasad! Dear brother! Please, help me! This woman in insane!” “What are you doing here?” Akhmed sighed, rolling his eyes with annoyance. “Emir Haroun asked me
to come here as a favor. Part of some elaborate plan to get revenge on
Aladdin for that elephant thing last year. Honestly, had I known what it
would entail, I’d have never agreed to it.” Jasmine turned back toward Akhmed, suddenly bearing the same shocked
look as Dunizad and Asasad. “You were sent here?” she cried. “That is the case... Will somebody get this rag off of me!” The magic carpet, being sensible, floated off of Akhmed’s body,
releasing him to move. Asasad helped his older brother back to his feet. As this happened, Dunizad made her way over toward the Princess. “My lady,” she said, “I’ve come to inform you that I am quitting my
position here among your staff.” “Great,” snapped Jasmine, “That saves me the trouble of firing you.
What are you doing in my costume?” Dunizad began to bounce with excitement. “I went to the Emir’s party
in your place, and I met Prince Asasad there! We’re going to be married!” Horrified, Akhmed turned to Asasad. “What! You’re marrying a
servant?” “Don’t mention it to the family and I won’t mention any of this to
your wife,” Asasad replied plainly. Akhmed dropped the subject. Jasmine sighed, which only caused her to begin coughing again. “I’d
better go to the jail and-- *cough cough* *gasp*-- explain all this --
*cough cough* -- so I can get Aladdin -- *gasp* *cough*-- out of there.
Allah. I’m not going to have any voice left by tomorrow...” Dunizad seemed surprised by the first part of Jasmine’s remark. “My
lord Aladdin is in jail?” “Apparently,” Jasmine answered, wheezing. “Due to the meddling of
your... brother-in-law to be!” “Due to the Emir,” corrected Akhmed. “He reported to the police that
there was a lunatic dressed as a bat who’d stolen his gold music box.” Jasmine’s eyes widened. She was beside herself. “And I suppose he’s
also responsible for exposing me to the flu!” she screeched. “No,” Akhmed answered, “In fact the original version of tonight’s
plan involved you being at the party.” “Ah, well! At least I can take comfort in the fact that my evening
would have been every bit as wretched if I had gone, then!” Wheezing and
coughing, she crawled onto the magic carpet. “I want all of you out of here
by the time I get back,” she growled. With that, Jasmine and the carpet
disappeared out the balcony exit. Akhmed, Asasad and Dunizad stared after
in silence. “My carriage is just down the street,” Akhmed said at last. “The two
of you can ride back to the Emir’s house with me. Come on.” The magic carpet touched down just outside the prison’s front door.
Jasmine listlessly stepped onto the dirt path, then entered the main room
solo. No longer benefiting from excess adrenaline, she felt like she’d been
hit by a Chinese canon. Regardless, she needed to rescue her husband from
the jail. The five guards who had been lounging in the front room instantly
recognized her royal headband and sprang to their knees. One small, thin
guard cried out: “Princess Jasmine! What are you doing here?” Jasmine sneezed. The guards wished her health. She composed herself
and managed to speak. “I believe you have mistakenly arrested my husband,” she said at
last. The thin guard grew pale. “Um... he wouldn’t happen to be dressed as
a bat, would he?” Jasmine nodded wearily. “That’s him.” The guard reacted as if someone just threatened to throw him off of a
cliff. “Oh Allah! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know it was him! I even went to
your palace--“ “I know, I know,” Jasmine said with clear agitation. She was getting
a headache. “Don’t worry about it, just bring him out here.” Nasir ran chaotically from the room, toward the cells. Erfan raised
his head to look at the Princess. “Forgive us,” he said gently, “But when he claimed to be your husband
we went to your palace and checked, and we were told that the Prince was
already at home.” “Yes,” muttered Jasmine. “A friend of ours has been playing some
practical jokes on us this evening.” A horrified scream was heard from the cell block. Nasir raced back
into the room, looking twice as frantic as when he left. “You’re not going
to believe this, but he’s not there!” Jasmine blinked. “What?” “Uh, well, my lady... it appears that the Prince has escaped.” Aladdin bolted wildly through the dark pre-morning street. If people
thought he looked like a madman before, he couldn’t imagine what he must
look like now. His costume was shredded-- he had used the wiring in the wings to
pick the lock of his cell-- and he was glancing around nervously, eyes
shifting back and forth like a paranoid rabbit. It was all a conspiracy; it
had to be. Jasmine, the Emir and the town guard were all in on it. They
were trying to get him. It didn’t matter why. The bat skittered to and fro,
making his way down the street. He didn’t know where he was going; every
person of rank in the town might be involved; he couldn’t turn to them for
help. At last he collapsed into the dirt, exhausted. Birds were beginning
to chirp. The sun would be up soon. At that moment a carriage came rolling down the road. It stopped in
front of him. The curtain was pushed aside and a concerned Dunizad leapt
down and ran to the recumbent form in the road. “My lord?” she asked, very concerned. She knelt down beside him. Aladdin looked like he could weep with joy at the sight of her.
“Dunizad,” he sighed. He hugged her legs. She could be trusted. “Dunizad, I
have no idea what is going on, but I thank Allah that you came.” Dunizad squirmed; the broken wiring was stabbing her in the ribs.
“Um... your wife has permanently dismissed me from her staff, so my fiancé,
Prince Asasad, had kindly offered to let me share his room. Uh... perhaps
you should come with us, my lord. You... look like you need sleep.” “Dunizad, you’ve saved me! You’ve saved me! You can’t imagine! I’m
going to forgive all your mistakes and give you a dowry for this!” “A dowry!” Akhmed laughed from within the carriage. “There’s
something you two didn’t think of. Father would surely have caught your lie
when he found she had no dowry.” Dunizad helped Aladdin into the carriage and they continued their
route to the house of Emir Haroun. Like a falcon hunting for prey, the magic carpet glided over the
city, searching along with Jasmine for the missing prince. The dark shadowy
streets didn’t make it easy. It was like looking for a grain of salt in a
puddle of ink. Jasmine coughed and choked continuously. She decided at last that it was pointless to keep looking without
light. She and the magic carpet returned to the palace, hoping she might be
able to catch a small amount of rest before resuming in a few hours, after
sunrise. When Aladdin had realized that the carriage was stopping at the
Emir’s house, his sleep-deprived excitement-wearied mind sent adrenaline
rushing through his system and he had tried to run away. The combined
efforts of Dunizad, Asasad and Akhmed subdued him and brought him into the
house. He now sat at the table, recovering his nerves and wits with a cup
of hot apple tea that Dunizad had prepared for him. Akhmed had woken Emir
Haroun and informed him of the circumstance. He was sitting across from
Aladdin, grinning wickedly. “So,” said Haroun, “How did I do?” Aladdin looked confused. “How did you do what?” “My revenge. Were the events of tonight not at least as humiliating
as having to walk home in an elephant costume?” “Events? And I thought I was just going crazy! You mean this actually
was planned?” “Yes: your walking home, being arrested, and Prince Akhmed keeping
your wife busy so she couldn’t help you.” Aladdin seemed concerned. “Just how busy?” Haroun started to laugh. “Don’t worry. I assure you there was nothing
overly licentious. I told him not to force her into anything.” Akhmed shouted from across the room. “I’d have never agreed to it if
I had remembered what she was like! I knew there was a reason I had decided
against marrying her.” Aladdin grinned, evidently amused by the comment. He continued
speaking to Haroun. “What about Dunizad and Prince Asasad?” Haroun raised his palms. “I had nothing to do with it. That was just
a happy coincidence.” He leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice. “By
the way, I was serious about the music box being an apology for your wife.
I sent servants out to retrieve both.” A few minutes later, both arrived. Jasmine looked as bad as anyone
had ever seen her, but she was very happy to find her husband still in one
piece. She ran to him and crumpled into his arms. She tried not to cough on
him. Haroun patted them both on the back. “Come, I have one last guest
room. You two are welcome to it. Get a bit of rest; there will be plenty of
time for you to go home in the morning.” “Judging from the color of the sky, it is morning,” said Asasad. Haroun grumbled. “Afternoon, then.” “I would appreciate that,” Jasmine wheezed, her voice crackling with
exhaustion. Dunizad spoke happily. “That’s excellent,” she said. “We can talk
about the dowry before you leave, that way.” Jasmine’s eyebrows shot up. “Dowry?” Aladdin seemed embarrassed. “Ah, yeah. I told Dunizad I would pay her
dowry.” He smiled sheepishly. Jasmine glared at him. “We’re not giving a penny to that girl,” she fumed. Aladdin stepped away from his wife. She could be mean when she was
upset. “But I already promised--“ “The only reason you have a cent to your name is because you married
me, making it my money; and Dunizad is not getting any of it.” “But why?” “She left me there all alone in the palace! What if it hadn’t just
been Prince Akhmed coming to play a trick on me? What if it had been some
nocturnal attacker planning to abscond with me!” Aladdin couldn’t help but grin. “You think Dunizad would have been
able to save you?” Jasmine turned away, her arms folded. “It’s the principal,” she
seethed. Dunizad stepped forward, pleading to the Princess. “My lady, please.
I meant no harm, and I was always a good servant otherwise. If I don’t get
that dowry, Asasad’s parents--“ “I don’t care!” Jasmine screeched. “I’m too tired to continue this!
You’re not getting any money from me outside of your final pay!” Haroun spoke up. “Don’t be mad at her,” he bellowed in a remarkably
gentle tone. “I told her to come to the party instead of staying with you.” Jasmine turned to him in disbelief. “What?” Haroun nodded. “Once I heard that you were ill and wouldn’t be
attending the party, I had a message delivered to the last servant in the
palace, asking her to come to the party as part of a joke. I promised she’d
be forgiven for it. Please don’t make a liar of me.” Jasmine deflated. She wasn’t even surprised anymore. “Is there
anything you didn’t think of?” she asked. She wearily turned back to
Dunizad. “Fine, then. I suppose you’re forgiven. I... guess we can give you
some kind of dowry, I usually do whenever the servants get married.” Dunizad smiled. The room brightened. Akhmed suddenly spun around. “Well,” he said, starting towards the
back of the house, “Now that everything is settled, I’m going to bed. I
intend to get some sleep before lunchtime.” “Good idea,” said Haroun. “I suggest we all do the same.” There were murmurs of agreement. Haroun escorted Aladdin and Jasmine
to their room and they bid each other goodnight, or good morning as fancy
took them. Aladdin took a step into the chamber, then turned back to Haroun with
a smirk on his face. “Maybe I’ll dream up a way to get revenge on you, next
year,” he said. Haroun smiled. “My lord, I would expect nothing less of you.” He
bowed deeply one last time and stepped away, murring “May all your dreams
come true.” The Emir continued down the hall and made one last stop on the way to
his quarters. He took Dunizad aside. “You know you owe me a favor now,” he said quietly. Dunizad smiled shyly. “Yes, I suppose so. What kind?” Haroun shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Last person who owed me a favor had
to come to town for my costume party and distract the princess.” He glanced
indicatively toward Akhmed’s room. “Trust me, I’ll be sure to let you
know.” Dunizad nodded in accord. “The least I can do to repay you, my lord.” He smiled gently at her. “By the way, if you’re going to claim that
you’re a noblewoman, you should get out of the habit of calling everyone
‘my lord.’” Dunizad smiled appreciatively at him and uttered a thank you before
disappearing into her room. Emir Haroun al Fouadabbas lingered contemplatively for a moment at
the doorway, then began to saunter along the hallway toward his own
chamber. The morning sun shone through the window and tinted the corridor a
bright marigold. Despite the light, he expected he would have no trouble
sleeping, for now, at last, his revenge had finally been taken.FINITA LA COMMEDIA
The Tale of the Emir's Revenge upon the Bat by Talia