Agrabah might have been an average city, but Comyn didn't see the trouble that had started there. Princess Jasmine and Aladdin had been married for several months, but Aladdin hadn't really settled down to the routine of palace life, which was a cause of concern for the sultan. Over a week previous, the sultan had come up with a plan. One night while Aladdin and his friends were asleep, the sultan had called a meeting with Princess Jasmine and Rasoul, Captain of the Royal Guard.
As he paced back and forth across the room, the sultan spoke. "I'm concerned about Aladdin," he said. "While I admire his heroics and bravery, he is a prince now. He needs to learn the skills of a leader. I am already old, and I'm not sure Aladdin is ready to be sultan if something happens to me." He paused, and Jasmine looked at her feet, ashamed.
Sultan walked over to her. "There's no need to be ashamed, Jasmine," he said. "Aladdin is a boy yet. He will learn with experience. However, I feel that Aladdin should get that experience now.
I have come up with a plan," he continued. "Rasoul, I called you here because I will need your help in implementing it." he said. He divulged the details to Rasoul and Jasmine.
The next day, Aladdin was awakened early by Jasmine rushing into the bedroom. She shook him awake and sat down beside him in tears.
"Jasmine, what's wrong?" Aladdin cried. He was immediately awake and alert.
"It's Father," Jasmine sobbed. "He's very ill. He wants to see you right away!"
"Me?" Aladdin asked. He reached automatically for Genie's lamp. "Shouldn't you call a doctor?"
"Rasoul already did," Jasmine said hurriedly. She pulled Aladdin up so suddenly he dropped the lamp. "Hurry!" she said. She pulled him along behind her toward the sultan's room.
As they neared the sultan's room, however, they were stopped by Rasoul.
"Halt!" he commanded. "No one is to enter."
"But Rasoul," Jasmine said. "My father asked for Aladdin specifically."
"I'm sorry, Princess," Rasoul said, "but the doctor said he can see no one." He looked begrudgingly at Aladdin. "He did, however, let the sultan write a letter, which the sultan instructed me to give to Prince Aladdin." He handed Aladdin a scroll of papyrus bound with a gold thread.
"What does it say, Aladdin?" Jasmine asked inquisitively.
Aladdin scanned the contents of the scroll, and his face went very pale. "It's a royal declaration. He wants me instated as sultan by sunset!"
Jasmine wailed suddenly. "Oh, no!" she cried. "This must mean that Father's . . . that he's . . ." She broke off suddenly, absorbed in tears.
After a moment, however, she calmed down, and addressed Aladdin. "We must obey his wishes, of course," she said. She wiped some tears from the side of her face. "You need to prepare for the ceremony. Let's go back to our room." She took hold of his hand and led him along. Aladdin, still in shock, nodded dully and followed her.
Abu and Iago sat together in a corner of Aladdin's room, completely silent. Iago had a pensive air about him as he stared at Aladdin. Next to him, Abu sniffled slightly and wiped a tear from his eye. Aladdin had explained the situation to Abu, Iago, Carpet, and Genie the moment he and Jasmine got back to the room. After a hectic day of making arrangements and preparing an impromptu ceremony, they were all gathered back in Aladdin and Jasmine's room once again. Abu watched sadly as Aladdin stood before a mirror; Genie solemnly helped Aladdin get dressed in royal apparel. For once, Genie didn't crack a single joke; even he knew the seriousness of the situation. Behind them, Carpet was held various items of Aladdin's garb in his tassels; he handed some items to Genie and took others away.
Aladdin finally broke the silence. As Genie finished adjusting his turban, he turned away from the mirror, to the others in the room. "Iago," he said. "This is a state occasion, and a very solemn one at that. I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. Abu, I'm sorry, but you cannot sit on my shoulder tonight. You, Iago, and Rajah will be posted near the gates of the palace to keep out trouble makers. Don't start any trouble; just don't let creeps like Amin d'Moola or Abis Mal in. Rajah will be able to enforce that."
He continued. "Genie, you will be stationed in the front of the room near the throne, but you will need to stay in your lamp unless I call on you. I don't expect any trouble, but we don't need to start any by the wrong person seeing you there. Carpet, you'll rest underneath the lamp."
As he finished with his orders, Jasmine walked into the room. She was dressed for the occasion as well, in a long, flowing, pale blue skirt and a wrap-around top trimmed in royal blue. She wore a diamond-crested tiara in place of her usual hair band, and her hair was loosely braided down her back. "Are you ready, Aladdin?" Jasmine asked. "It's almost time for the ceremony to start."
"I guess I'm ready," Aladdin said. He glanced one last time at himself in the mirror and tried to calm his nerves. "You guys get to your places," Aladdin instructed his friends. He and Jasmine turned to leave.
Outside the palace gates, the people of Agrabah waited to enter. They had all been summoned to the palace, but no one knew why. In the midst of the people, Sadira walked about in her magician's dress. Without the rags and dust, she was able to mingle easily with the other citizens. She approached a man standing near the gate. "Excuse me, do you know why the town was summoned here?"
"No, no one knows," the man replied. "Rumor has it that an announcement is going to be made."
"That's specific," Sadira muttered. She moved away from him. Whatever the announcement was, she guessed, it must be something that would affect the whole city.
Moments later, Sadira saw Rajah slink past, with Iago and Abu riding on his back. They stationed themselves next to the gate. Then Rasoul appeared, and held up his hand for silence. The crowd became quiet, and he spoke. "Please make way for Prince Aladdin and Princess Jasmine," he commanded. Aladdin and Jasmine appeared at a side door of the palace, and the crowd parted, letting them move to the front doors. There, they could see, a podium surrounded by drapes had hastily been erected. Rasoul spoke again. "Please move into the courtyard, be seated, and remain quiet," he said.
When the crowd had organized, Aladdin and Jasmine turned and addressed the crowd. "You have been called here," Jasmine said, "because my father is very ill. As he is unable to function as Sultan, Prince Aladdin will take his place." Some of the crowd gasped at the announcement. Jasmine spoke again. "As my father cannot attend this ceremony, and there is no royal vizier, the ceremony will be simple, conducted by myself and Prince Aladdin."
Aladdin turned to Jasmine and spoke the words he had been rehearsing all day. "I, Prince Aladdin of Agrabah, take the position of the Sultan of Agrabah. I will serve the people of Agrabah to the best of my ability, and protect the people from all harm."
Then Jasmine delivered her lines. "And I, Princess Jasmine of Agrabah, do now take my place as the Sultana of Agrabah. I will fulfill my duty to help and please the people of Agrabah, and be a good and faithful ruler by my husband's side."
Aladdin turned toward the crowd, who sat in shocked silence. "From this time forward, you shall regard me as your Sultan, and I and Sultana Jasmine shall be addressed and approached appropriately. Please, retire to your homes for the night, my people." He took Jasmine by the hand, and the two of them walked through the palace doors. Rajah, Iago, and Abu followed them; they gathered up the carpet and lamp on their way by. As they disappeared through the doorway, the massive doors closed behind them with an echoing boom.
Mozenrath blinked in the early morning sun; the heat was already becoming intense. He sat up and looked around. The last place he remembered being was in his Citadel; now he was lying in a sandy alley between two rows of sand-colored buildings. A warm wind swept down the alley and caressed his arms and chest. He looked down at himself and found that he was wearing a pair of ragged pants and a vest that hung open in the front. Both were dust-colored and wrinkled from sleeping on the ground. His feet were bare, and he could tell by running his hands through his hair that his hair was tangled and full of sand. He sighed and climbed to his feet.
He peered out onto the main road. Shops were opening, people were milling about, and small children were playing and tumbling about in the doorways of their homes.
"Hey, you little urchins, get out of here!" a heavy-set woman yelled. She swatted one of them with a broom. The children, a boy and a small girl, both dark-complexioned and raven-haired, yelped and flew off the step and into the alley. They rushed past Mozenrath but took no notice of him.
"Children," Mozenrath thought contemptuously. He walked out into the marketplace.
A low growl from his stomach reminded Mozenrath that he hadn't eaten yet; he decided he could put it off, since he'd eaten dinner with Comyn last night.
As he walked past the stalls where merchants were hawking their wares, many of the merchants gave him disdainful looks, and he was pushed aside by several people who were shopping. Many of the rich fabrics appealed to him, obviously of better quality than those he was wearing, and he was surrounded by the smells of a variety of foods. He wondered what would happen if he swiped some fruit while no one was looking.
He found out sooner than he expected. A little girl, dressed in clothing much like his, stood near a stall whose table was covered with fresh apples and pears. A cart next to the stall was heaped with a variety of citrus fruits. As the vendor turned away to attend to a customer, the girl crept up to the stall and reached up slowly to a small apple on the edge of the table. She never got the fruit; a heavy blade slammed down on the table where her fingers had been a fraction of a second before.
"Get away from here, you dirty creature!" the vendor shrieked. "Don't you dare try to steal from here again!" He swung his heavy knife again, just missing the child's arm as she scurried away. She disappeared into the shadows of another dark alley.
More curious than concerned, Mozenrath followed her. He found her weeping and curled into a ball in the dust and sand of the alley.
"How long has it been since you've eaten?" he asked her.
The child gasped and looked up at Mozenrath, surprised. "Don't know," she whispered. "A while."
"Why did you try to steal that food?" he asked. "It can't cost that much for an apple."
"I don't have any money," she cried. "I'm hungry."
Mozenrath looked in the direction of the food stand. It couldn't possibly be that difficult to get something from it without being seen, he thought.
He walked back out into the marketplace, and studied the fruit stand. The front and the one side were open to the street. The top was shadowed by an overhang, and the other side was partially obscured by the cart.
With his magic, it would have been no problem to get the fruit from that stand; he could have got it from the alley. He had to put more consideration into working without his magic.
Mozenrath decided his best bet was to approach from above. He would be able to reach the fruit while being screened from view by the overhang. He noticed a rickety wooden ladder alongside a building near the stand, and he walked casually over to it. He climbed to the roof of the building; from the roof, he was directly above and a few feet from the overhang. To his dismay, he saw a rip in the cloth of the overhang.
He sat down on the stone roof to consider his options. It was only a few feet from the roof to the top of the pile on the stand. Perhaps he could lower himself by his feet and reach the fruit. He'd never tried anything like that before; it was getting more and more complicated to get to the apples. Mozenrath wondered briefly if he should have just walked up to the table as the girl had, but he dismissed the thought immediately. He would have been even more noticeable than the girl had been.
Mozenrath took a deep breath and swung himself over the side of the building then hooked his feet onto the ridge along the roof. He watched to be sure no one was looking, which was difficult to do because of the canopy below him. Through the tear in the cloth, the bright red fruit tempted him to just reach down and snatch one.
Just then, he saw the vendor walk out to the cart alongside the stand to gather fruit for a customer. He reached down quickly and snatched an apple; the ease of the maneuver convinced him to grab another.
He almost fell as a cry rang out on the street below. "Stop, thief!" the vendor cried. He rushed around to where he could see Mozenrath clearly.
Mozenrath scrambled back up to the roof; he scraped his chest on the rough stone as he did so. From the roof, he could see the guards, summoned by the cry, as they rushed up to the stand. The enraged vendor pointed to the roof where Mozenrath stood, and the guards began to ascend the ladder.
There was no other way down from the roof. As the guards clambered onto the roof, Mozenrath backed to the edge on the opposite side. He looked behind him and saw another roof several feet away. He tucked the apples into the pockets of his pants and took a desperate leap toward the next roof.
His hands just barely caught the edge of the building, and he slammed heavily against the side. He ached, and was quickly becoming exhausted as he struggled to find a foothold on the building and climb up. His efforts were futile, however, and he tumbled to the ground where he landed heavily on his back. He wheezed as he tried to get up, and he didn't doubt that he had broken one or more ribs. The guards were already on their way down, however, so he scrambled painfully to his feet and dashed into the dark alley where he took refuge behind a pile of empty crates and broken boards.
The guards rushed past his hiding place without taking notice of him. Once they had disappeared from sight, Mozenrath breathed a sigh of relief and left his hiding place. He retraced his steps toward the main street using the alleys and shadows and stumbled upon the alley where the little girl was hiding. She looked surprised to see him again, and she seemed concerned about the bleeding scrapes that were quickly becoming evident on his body.
Mozenrath reached into his pockets to find the apples and discovered that they were severely bruised and crushed by his escapades. Mozenrath took a bite of one of the apples and discovered that it tasted horrible from the bruises and the sand that had managed to get inside it.
Mozenrath handed the rest of the apple to the girl who accepted it eagerly. She looked at him gratefully. "Thank you, sir," she said happily. "Now there is food for my little brother." She called into the shadows. "Diya," she called softly, "Diya, come get some fruit."
A little boy, no more than three or four years old, wriggled out from under some stained blankets in a doorway and toddled up to the girl. She handed him the apple. Diya eyed it eagerly and ate it just as ravenously.
Mozenrath was surprised to see the boy eating the apple as if it were a delicacy. He imagined that the other must be in as bad of condition and handed it to the girl as well. Mozenrath sat down stiffly next to her and watched her eat it as ravenously as her brother had eaten his.
Suddenly the girl's eyes widened in terror. A dark shadow fell over Mozenrath and the two children, and he looked up to see three burly men glaring down at them.
The leader, whose face was marked by deep scars and missing teeth, growled scornfully at Mozenrath. "A fine mess you made of that, Boy," he said derisively. He kicked sand into Mozenrath's face. "You're an insult to thieves everywhere." He snapped his fingers, and the two men accompanying him seized Mozenrath by the arms and pinned him against the wooden door behind him. Their leader searched Mozenrath's pockets and the inside of his vest.
"Where's your Guild pass, Boy?" he demanded. He waved a fist in Mozenrath's face.
Mozenrath gave him a blank look and said nothing.
"Not in the Guild, eh?" the rough said. He punched Mozenrath in the stomach. "You have two days to obtain a Guild pass, or get out of Agrabah," he said. His two companions let Mozenrath crumple to the ground. The three men kicked more sand over Mozenrath's slumped figure and gave the children a scornful glare, then they left the alley.
Diya whimpered and hugged his sister. "Karima!" he wailed. Karima hugged her brother to her and stared over her shoulder at Mozenrath, who was struggling to sit up.
"Are you all right?" Karima asked softly. She approached Mozenrath as he righted himself.
"Yes, I'm fine," Mozenrath grumbled. He pushed the children back. He couldn't believe that he'd already gotten himself in this much trouble. It seemed his stay here was going to be more difficult than he thought. He gasped as he tried to stand; the punch that the thief had given him had only added to the pain from the sore ribs.
"Here," said Karima. She put one of Mozenrath's arms over her shoulders. Diya did the same with his other arm, and the two children did the best they could to help him stand. They led Mozenrath to an abandoned building and sat him in a dark corner. Karima ran outside and returned with one of the ragged blankets from the alley. She pulled it over him.
"This will keep the sun off you," she said. The sun was becoming scorching as the noon hour approached, and Mozenrath appreciated the cool darkness of the building. The calm and darkness helped Mozenrath forget the pain briefly, and he fell asleep. The children left him where he was and ran outside.
Inside the Palace of Agrabah, Aladdin was beginning to have difficulty with the job of Sultan. The morning's work wasn't too hard; there were only a couple of complaints and one dispute between two clothing merchants to deal with. As the day passed noon, however, the stream of people increased, and the triviality of the complaints became irritating. Along with the nonsense, real problems developed that caused even more of a headache.
"Your Majesty," the farmer who stood before Aladdin begged, "please help us find water. The water for our fields is running out, and the crops aren't ready to be harvested yet. Without the harvest, there will be no food for us!"
Aladdin rubbed his temples, trying to ease his developing headache. He had enough problems without this one. He turned to Genie, who stood next to the throne. "Genie, will you see what you can do? Find a spring somewhere or something. I'll figure out how to get the water to them later."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Genie said, giving him a proper salute. He puffed out of the room.
Aladdin sighed. He really wished Genie wouldn't call him 'Majesty', but he knew that now that he was Sultan, it was a requirement that even his friends address him as 'Majesty' or 'Sultan'.
As the farmer was leaving the throne room, the royal messenger approached.
"Great Sultan," he said. "The ruler of Quarkistan requests your aid in driving the Al-Muddi from their land."
"Terrific," Aladdin muttered. "All I need is for the Al-Muddi to start trouble."
Jasmine leaned over to him. "Aladdin," she said softly, "you need to help them. Quarkistan is one of our most powerful allies."
"I know," Aladdin sighed. "I'm just so bogged down here, I don't have time to go fight those mud creatures anymore."
"You are the sultan," Jasmine said gently. "Send your troops. They are trained to handle such dangers as the Al-Muddi."
"I guess you're right," Aladdin sighed. He straightened up on his throne. "Rasoul!" he called.
Rasoul appeared from a side door on the throne room. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"I want you to take a detachment of soldiers to Quarkistan and scout the trouble there; if the problem is too great for you and your men to handle, report back to Agrabah and get the rest of our troops."
"Yes, Sultan," Rasoul said. He bowed as he went out.
All was quiet for a moment, and Aladdin relaxed on the throne. He tried to sort out the problems he was dealing with in his mind. The silence was quickly shattered by a crash and a high-pitched shriek from another room.
"Aaaak!" Iago shrieked. "You're going to get it for that, Monkey!"
"Oh, what now?" Aladdin moaned.
Abu scampered into the room; a soaked and infuriated Iago flapped in behind him. "Come back here, Monkey!" Iago raged. "Let's see how you like it!" Abu shrieked and ran behind a column.
"ABU! IAGO!" Aladdin roared. He leaped off the throne. "Take it somewhere else; I have too much to worry about without you two causing trouble!"
Iago and Abu froze, shocked at Aladdin's outburst. "Sheesh, what a grouch," Iago muttered. "Come on, Abu, let's get out of here," he said to the monkey. He flapped toward the balcony. Abu, frightened by Aladdin's shouting, sniffled and let a tear slide down his face before he followed Iago out to the balcony. Iago picked Abu up by the vest and flew out to the courtyard with him.
Jasmine watched them leave. "Aladdin!" she admonished. "That wasn't very nice. They were just playing as they always do."
"I know, I know," Aladdin groaned. He sunk back onto the throne and put his face in his hands. "I'll make it up to them later. I'm just so worn out . . . maybe after a good night's sleep I'll feel more ready to handle all this."
"I'm sure you will," Jasmine said encouragingly. "Why don't you just take it easy for a while?"
"Your Majesty!" an urgent voice suddenly called.
"That's why," Aladdin groaned. He sat up straight on the throne once again.
When Mozenrath woke, darkness had fallen over Agrabah. He became aware of a cool rag being passed over his forehead and of a number of people in the room with him. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, Mozenrath saw that a young woman was kneeling next to him, rinsing the rag in a dish of water. He studied her face for a moment; the youth showed, despite the sand and grime that ran over her face in uneven wrinkles, and patches of lightly tanned skin showed where she brushed an errant strand of hair from her face with a wet hand. Her hair, so dark brown as to be almost black, hung unbound to her waist, and several strands flew wildly around her neck and shoulders.
The woman saw that Mozenrath had woke up. He tried to sit up, but she held him down gently and stroked his hair out of his face. "Lie quiet a moment," she said softly. "Your injuries aren't too bad, but you are going to hurt for a couple of days. Just relax; some of my friends are making a pot of soup. You can join us for dinner."
Mozenrath looked around the room. Near a window, moonlight streamed in, and a tall, spry man sat in it; he carefully sharpened a knife in the dim moonlight. The blade glistened in the white light, but by looking at the handle, Mozenrath could see that it had seen years of use. A plump, small woman was standing at a steaming pot set over a fire, which a small boy was tending. Two children, who Mozenrath recognized as Diya and Karima, were busy slicing some vegetables - two carrots, a potato, and a head of lettuce - which seemed to be for the soup pot.
Mozenrath sat up again as a heavily built man strode into the room with a package under his tunic. When he removed it, Mozenrath saw that it contained dried meat.
"You did get it!" the woman attending to Mozenrath cried happily.
The burly man looked over in their direction. His face was a deep brown and severely scarred. He had a deep gash in one arm from some ancient injury. He narrowed his dark eyes at Mozenrath. "It's about time you woke up," he grumbled. "I don't suppose you have anything to contribute."
The woman looked up at him and scowled. "He gave Diya and Karima some fruit earlier today; that's how he got the way he is. Isn't that enough, Adel?"
"You're too easy on him, Na'ima," Adel said. "He needs to be able to pull his share if he eats with us. And he shouldn't be handing the children food without making them work for it."
Na'ima just shook her head. She turned to Mozenrath, who climbed to his feet. "You don't need to pay attention to him," Na'ima said. "He just likes to look out for all of us."
"What's your name, Boy?" Adel asked gruffly. He handed the meat packet to the woman at the soup pot.
Mozenrath thought quickly for a name that wouldn't give him away. He suddenly thought of a name he had heard his mother mention in the past. "Anubis," he said. He hoped that none of them were familiar with it. "My name is Anubis."
"Name's Adel," Adel said brusquely. He shook Mozenrath's hand.
"Is this your family?" Mozenrath asked. He gestured around the room.
Adel snorted. "No more than they're your family, Boy," he said. "We're all like you, people without homes or families. We just look out for each other."
"Karima said you had a run-in with the leader of the Thieves' Guild today," Na'ima said. She put away the cloth and bowl of water.
"Yes," Mozenrath replied. He winced at the memory. "I guess I have to get one of their passes."
"Everyone does, unless they spend their life as a beggar, and then Amal still doesn't leave them alone," Na'ima said.
"Don't tell me even the merchants have Thieves' Guild passes," Mozenrath said.
"No," Adel said. A dark look passed over his face. "The merchants are the "good people" of Agrabah. Only the "dirty street rats" belong to the Thieves' Guild."
Mozenrath colored slightly; he remembered the way he'd scorned Comyn as a street rat, and the many times he'd been disdainful of Aladdin's status. He wondered where the little creep was now. Probably living in the palace with his little Princess Jasmine, Mozenrath decided. That would be the worst irony in this whole situation.
Just then, the woman at the soup pot clanged her spoon lightly on the outside of the pot and everyone turned to look at her.
"The soup is ready," she said. She gestured to a stack of crude wooden bowls next to the pot that were filled with soup.
"Thanks Dalal," Na'ima said. She, Adel, Mozenrath and the children gathered around the pot, and she and Dalal handed out the soup bowls.
Mozenrath noticed the man by the window was still there and looked questioningly at Na'ima.
Na'ima followed his gaze. "That's Nadir," she said. "He can't hear. I'll take some soup to him in a minute, if he doesn't notice. He doesn't like people to help him."
Mozenrath stared thoughtfully at Nadir as he sat down with his bowl of soup. A moment later, the children, Diya, Karima and the boy who had been tending the fire walked over to Mozenrath and sat down near him. The small boy crawled into Mozenrath's lap and held out his hands for the soup bowl Karima was holding.
"Terrific, just terrific," Mozenrath thought to himself as the children settled themselves. "All I need is for these children to get attached to me."
The little boy curled himself around his bowl and ate quietly. Mozenrath ate awkwardly, trying not to spill his soup on the child. Karima and Diya, on either side of him, ate ravenously.
After dinner, everyone seemed to relax for a while. Mozenrath let the boy stay on his lap until Dalal came over, picked him up, and took him over to a pile of blankets to sleep. "Sleep well, little Khwaja," she said. She tucked him in to the makeshift bed.
Adel approached Mozenrath. "Anubis," he said.
Mozenrath started; he almost didn't recognize his alibi.
"You should probably go down to the Den tonight and get your Guild pass," Adel continued. "Here." He took a small plate trimmed with gold out of a knapsack. "Amal expects stolen goods as payment for a pass. I just lifted this today; he should recognize it."
Mozenrath wouldn't accept it. "Don't," he said. "I can get something of my own. You might need that later."
"You're sure?" Adel questioned.
"Yes," said Mozenrath. He stood up to leave. "You're right. I need to pull my own weight. I am thankful you let me stay here. I'll be back later, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," Adel said. He was quickly warming to Mozenrath. "This is just an abandoned building we sleep in. We don't own it. The royal guards could come by any time and chase us out, but they don't want to take a chance of one of the royal family seeing us in the streets; it makes their precious city look bad to have poor people sleeping in the street, especially now that Prince Aladdin is the new Sultan."
"Prince Aladdin? The new Sultan?" Mozenrath wondered, thunderstruck. He promised himself he would pay attention to the gossip around him; it had obviously been too long since he'd been in Agrabah.
"Of course it does," Mozenrath muttered as he walked out the door. He wandered down the street toward the Thieves' Den. He wondered where he could pick something up for the fee he needed.
A glint of gold caught his eye as he walked past a darkened stairway leading down under the street. He turned and looked again. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the stairway, he made out the forms of various ancient objects lining shelves of a dark, dusty room. A small gold cat idol with ruby eyes caught Mozenrath's eye and he picked it up. He was a good judge of magic, and he noticed as he turned it over in his hand that it held a strong spell, even though he wasn't able to activate it. He leaned out into the moonlight and read the inscription written on the back in Arabic. Whoever desires power shalt invoke the power of this idol and summon unto himself Evil Incarnate . . .
Mozenrath laughed out loud, despite himself. He chuckled. "Ooh, what a prize," he thought. He laughed to himself. This would be just the thing to give to Amal to get back at him. Let the fool summon Mirage - she would torment him so much he would regret ever meeting Mozenrath.
Mozenrath turned to walk out, but a gnarled wooden cane flew out in front of him. "No!" an old woman demanded. She leaped nimbly in front of him despite her age. "No one steals from this place!"
"Out of the way, Old Woman," Mozenrath said. He brushed her aside and started toward the street.
The woman blocked his path. In the moonlight, Mozenrath could make out her wrinkled face and gnarled features as she glared at him. Her eyes shone with angry fire as she spat out, "You may think you have found a prize, Boy, but I warn you, this idol is more powerful than you can handle!"
"Don't worry, it's not for me." Mozenrath grinned and walked past her.
"It carries a curse you would not wish on your worst enemy!" the old woman called after him as he walked haughtily away.
"That's what you think," Mozenrath muttered. He smirked evilly; then he walked to the Thieves' Den and entered.
There's Nothing Comyn About Her by Lennox MacBeth