Nothing could go worse! he thought, until he glanced at his ruined melon and saw black-booted feet inches from the broken rind. The merchant’s eyes slowly traveled the length of the stranger, his eyes growing wide and white in his face.

A tall, pale-faced stranger all in black watched the merchant go dead-pale, amused a little, and he smiled. He had a young, beautiful face, but his hair— it was whiter than heat!! And the merchant had never seen eyes as pale as the two on the stranger’s face. Those eyes flashed suddenly, and the stranger took a step back and bowed grandly.

“A shekel for your thoughts,” he asked pleasantly as he straightened. The merchant suddenly remembered reality and snarled, turning away to rearrange the melons at his stand.

“An uncertain day,” he muttered, glancing at the stranger. “We have a new Sultan.”

“Have we?” the stranger smiled, amused.

“Made so last night. He has no more royal blood than I!” the merchant spat.

“Ah the bells of democracy toll loud.”

“He is no more worthy to be Sultan than I,” the merchant continued, and kicked the broken melon into the street.

“How did this come to pass then, friend?” the white haired young man said, still pleasant, a slight smile still lingering.

The merchant’s face grew dark. “It would seem our fair princess has taken a liking to street rats.”

The stranger only smiled, and flipped the merchant a shekel as he walked on. “The Rat who would be King,” he murmured as he approached the sun-shimmering palace. “Fitting, in a city of rats.”

Aladdin and Jasmine stood arm in arm at he palace gates as the Sultan of Agrabah prepared his royal caravan. He was taking a long, long vacation, one far overdue in his opinion, to the land of the Galaphems. The impressive feminist Queen Hippsodeth was awaiting his arrival, and he had no intention to keep his future bride waiting! For all he knew, she would come searching and take him by force if he was late. Not that it would necessarily be a bad thing, of course, but there was still a certain level of dignity to uphold. He laughed, though, delighted, and danced up to his daughter and new son-in-law. Jasmine threw her arms around her father, tears sliding down her pretty, perfect face. “Oh, now don't cry, dearest,” the Sultan told her, taking her face and pushing away the tears. “I won't be so far away!”

“I know, father,” Jasmine sighed as she straightened, and offered the Sultan a tiny, brave smile. Aladdin bowed deeply as the Sultan turned to him.

“My boy,” he said gently. “You are Sultan now.”

Aladdin took a deep breath and straightened.

“You must be a firm leader, but not cruel. You must judge with reason and wisdom, and protect this city as if it were a piece of you, a part of your heart, or a child—” he smiled at Jasmine. “You have proven your worth to me time and again, Aladdin. You will make a fine, fine Sultan.”

Aladdin forced a smile. “Thank you, sir.” Jasmine smiled fondly and took his arm, resting her cheek against his shoulder. The old Sultan watched them and smiled pensively, realizing what he was leaving behind.

“You will do fine,” the Sultan said again. “You both will.”

“I'm ready for this, sir,” Aladdin assured him. The Sultan smiled as Rasoul, the Captain of the Guard, helped him into the caravan.

“I know.”

The new young Sultan and his queen watched the caravan meander through the palace gates and into the streets of Agrabah. The smile faded off Aladdin’s face. “I'm not ready for this,” he deadpanned, dropping his hands to his side.

“You better be, street rat,” Rasoul growled, lifting his mirror-like scimitar inches from Aladdin’s throat. “It’s a problem I can easily remedy.”

“Rasoul!” Jasmine scolded.

“Your Highness.” Rasoul bowed and sheathed his sword as he walked back into the palace.

“He’s going to kill me,” Aladdin said blandly as he watched the man’s back.

“Oh Aladdin no he won't,” Jasmine smiled. Aladdin looked at her skeptically and followed Rasoul into the palace, leaving Jasmine on the tier alone. She watched her husband as he walked into a different world and knew how scared he was. She was scared for him— not as Sultan— she knew he would be the best thing that happened to Agrabah in a long time. But still... like Rasoul, there were those out there who would never accept a Rat in King’s Clothing. She turned away and walked to the fountain.

Rajah joined her there, and she rubbed the tiger’s head and scratched behind his ears until he was purring like a kitten. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Oh, Rajah,” she sighed, as the tiger sat back on its haunches.

A black-booted foot crushed the flower at her fingertips. Jasmine gasped a breath and drew her hand back.

“Good morning, Princess,” said the voice, and her head snapped up to find the face. Long white hair fluttered madly in a sudden strong wind, and Jasmine shielded her eyes from a stinging blast of desert sand. Rajah bristled and growled, hunching over, ready to pounce. “Who are you?!” she cried as the wind died away.

“A stranger,” he smiled, and his hair settled like feathers, softly, around his face. He had stunning blue eyes. “Better put your kitty away.” He glared at Rajah, who whimpered and backed off.

“Rajah—” Jasmine began, turning to the animal, and she didn't see the light in the stranger’s eyes.

“It’s all right,” he assured her as the tiger slunk away, keeping a keen eye on the stranger. Jasmine looked at the man. He was ethereal.... there was a starkness of his features, and yet an intense radiance, beauty.... She had never seen a creature such as this, either in the streets of Agrabah or throughout the Seven Deserts. She and Aladdin had traveled far together... and yet, she realized, not far enough.....

“Who are you?” she demanded, one more time.

“Rise to your feet,” he said, and offered his hand. She took it.

“Why are you here? How did you get beyond the guards—?” Jasmine stammered, stepping back away, frightened by his touch. Suddenly, it was real. He didn't release her hand. “Who are you?”

“Do you demand to know?” he asked her, smiling. “By virtue of your throne?”

“Are you mocking me?” she cried, suddenly angry, and she snapped her hand away. “How dare you! GUARDS!” she screamed. She turned her back and screamed again. “GUARDS!!”

Aladdin was the first to arrive, with Rasoul and three others at his heels. “Jasmine!” he cried, flying down the steps and into her arms. “What’s wrong?” The guards circled the two, a little out of breath, their swords drawn and held ready. “What is it?” The young queen turned to find him, but the stranger was gone.

“He’s gone—” she began.

Aladdin released her. “Who’s gone?”

“That man— there was a man—” she was looking desperately for him, pushing past the guards and running toward the garden.

“Jasmine!” Aladdin shouted, and ran after her. “Wait!”

“There was a man, all in black,” she was saying, staring into the water of the fountain. She saw her own face shimmering back at her. “He had blue eyes, and a pale face, and his hair—”

Aladdin took her shoulder. “Jasmine.”

“It was white.” She turned to stare into her husband’s troubled eyes. “His hair was all white.”

Rasoul had heard more than enough. He sent his guards to the palace gates and ordered them to stay there, and not to let death or the devil pass without his say. How vulnerable would they be, he wondered? How many would think to retaliate against this new.... “sultan”?

“Maybe he was a sorcerer,” Aladdin offered. That was all he needed— more enemies. “Do you think he was a sorcerer?”

Jasmine stared down at his hands, which were closed gently over her own.

“Do you think—”

The morning sky was shattered by a harsh, ugly cry, and the young couple glanced up to see a white crow circling high above them. Rasoul snarled. Sorcerer or no, he was taking no chances with the Queen’s safety. “Shoot it down,” he ordered, and a guard knocked an arrow.

It shot into the sky like lightning. “NO!” Jasmine screamed, running to seize the longbow from the startled palace guard. Aladdin silently watched the arrow find its mark. They watched the creature fall, spiraling in its descent, until it dissolved into splinters of light and vanished into the morning.

Kraehan ripped out the arrow, gasping as a ribbon of blood shimmered out of his chest. He doubled over, pressing a palm tight against his chest, his eyes burning with strong white light.

“Charlie?” a sweet voice asked, traveling through the airy halls of his palace. He heard her footfalls lightly on the marble floors, and he clenched his teeth. “Where are you?”

The blood dissolved away beneath his hand, and the wound slowly closed. He straightened and decided he ought clear the floor of blood.

“There you are.” A young girl danced through his chamber and into his arms. “And holding toys of destruction, I see.”

He glanced beyond her length of shiny, soft red hair at the arrow in his hand. He grimaced and magicked away the dripping blood.

“Nothing but games,” he assured her, smiling into her perfect face, her sheer blue eyes. He lowered his face to touch his lips to hers.

“The games you play,” she sighed against his lips, scolding him, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him closer, tangling her fingers in his long white hair. His body relaxed against hers. He forgot all about any sort of game and lost himself in the kiss.

She laughed suddenly, impishly, and pushed him away. “Bad man,” she grinned at him, holding him at arms length.

“I know,” he laughed, taking her slim white arm in hopes to draw her back.

“Oh no,’ she protested, pulling away. “Not now, mister.” She turned to walk away from him. He frowned and followed her, intrigued.

“Why not?”

“What for?” she countered, shooting a sly glance over her shoulder and tossing fiery red hair. “What have you done to deserve my company?”

He smiled, an almost sheepish look making his face look cute. “Nothing, milady.”

She stopped suddenly and whirled to face him. “You run off and leave me here all alone, and the only thing you bring me back is an arrow?” She snatched it out of his hands and took off down the hall.

“No, wait!” he shouted, chasing after his barefoot gypsy girl. “Alea— wait!”

The open halls and corridors of his Sky Palace wove themselves into delightful mazes, mysteries he could break with a magic eye, but that could lose a mortal life. Alea ran them like a creature fey, not mortal, and he was forced to magic to find her.

She was waiting for him on the solar balcony, reclining, wistfully watching the stars. The high night wind caught hold of her hair and sent it swimming across her face. “Mmmm, my love,” she sighed as he leaned beside her. “Venez pour moi la nuit, mon amour.”

He smiled. They looked out over his land, across the jagged mountain peaks that only showed themselves as darker blues against the midnight sky.

“Tell me where you went.”

His face clouded. “No,” he said.

She shifted her eyes, then turned them to the arrow in her hand. Without a word, she outstretched her hand over the balcony’s edge, and let the arrow fall.

“Alea—” Charlie cried, startled, and launched his body over the balcony wall. She watched mildly as the arrow plummeted out of sight, as Charlie spread his arms as wings and shattered the night with his cry. She watched the falcon arrow down, hundreds of feet, nowhere near to the shattering ground.

Sky Palace, and all its jagged spires, rose above the barren rocks below, held aloft by magic or science or both. But ever a mystery. She shifted her eyes, counting constellations, waiting for her lover to return.

Updated 8-24-99

Jasmine wandered through the garden, which was lit pale by a three quarter moon, that hung motionless in the sky like an opal. Stars swept across the nighttime sky, and the young Queen singled out the brightest of them, rising low above the horizon. It shone strong and clear. Its light didn't waver and shudder like all the other stars in the sky. She wondered why. What made that single star burn so bright, and last so long? When the rest took flight at the first light of dawn, this one remained, refused to go where all others went. Until finally, the hot desert sun shone too bright for it to stay. Stars preferred the darkness. At times, she couldn't blame them.

She sighed, and sat down on the edge of the fountain. The water had been shut off; the garden was quiet. Yellow light from the palace cast fitful shadows.

Tomorrow the palace would open. The city of Agrabah would be welcome to speak their minds, and settle disputes. Offer opinions, criticism or praise. Her father had always valued the voice of his people, and Jasmine knew that they were the strength of the city. It was built up by their blood and sweat and kept beautiful by their hands. They were the eyes and ears of the palace, the ones who knew the city like no other. They lived within it. They knew what of it was wrong, and what of it could be better. To give them voice empowered them, and yet strengthened their loyalty.

But tomorrow—

There was a restless wind of change blowing, and these people had built their walls. They would not let them fall to any howling wind.

It was Aladdin’s first time alone. He had played Sultan under her father’s watchful eye and wise guidance, but Aladdin was young, and alone now. She had been a part of the structure all her life, but then she was young, too. And for as much as she knew of diplomacy, she could not undermine her king. To do so at the birth of his reign would damn him to be a weak Sultan in the eyes of the people forever.

He would learn. As her father told them, a hundred times if once, wisdom comes with time. That didn't ease the fear, though, of what circus might greet the morning. They were both so young. They both had so much to learn.

She stared down at her hands. Small, pretty things resting smoothly in her lap. There were other things that scared her, beyond the reaction of her people.

Aladdin approached silently, unnoticed until he sat down beside her, startling her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, and she rested her head against his chest.

“I remember a night as beautiful as this,” he murmured, staring up into the ribbons of darkness. Jasmine sighed and closed her eyes, absorbing his warmth. His gentle hand was on her back. “you're still thinking about him, aren't you?” he asked quietly.

“I can't help it,” she admitted.

“it'll be all right,” he assured her, running a hand over her silky hair, not sure if he quite believed it himself.

“Do you think he’s dead?”

Aladdin sighed. “I don't know. I don't think so.”

Their backs snapped straight as a crash and the sound of pottery breaking shattered the quiet night air. They rushed up the steps of the Palace but didn't quite make it in before Abu zinged headfirst into Aladdin’s chest. The Sultan caught the dazed little monkey before he fell and held him eye level. “Okay, what’s going on?” he said sternly. Abu grabbed his tale and gave a sheepish

“I don't know.”

Aladdin frowned, not quite believing that.

“Oh hey Al.” A big blue genie slid up in between the Sultan and Queen and plucked the little monkey right out of his hands. Abu scurried onto and off of his shoulders.

“Genie,” Aladdin began, his hands perched on his hips, “what’s going on?”

“Ooooo, Al,” Genie began enthusiastically. “You have rats in the Palace!”

“Rats!” Jasmine said skeptically. Abu nodded and agreed with the Genie.

“Big ones! Big, mean looking razor-clawed rabid drooling spitting biting rats!” Genie morphed in and out of a variety of different drooling spitting monsters.

“Oh Iago’s not here is he?” Aladdin glanced over Genie’s shoulder into the Palace.

“That’s a good one, Al,” Genie credited him. “There was a rat, about yay big, round black ears, cute little red pants. Left us all free tee shirts!” Genie poofed and Aladdin and Jasmine glanced at each other. They were wearing Disney World tee shirts.

“Uh—Genie?” Aladdin grated.

Genie’s shoulders rounded out and the souvenirs disappeared. He cradled his chin, looking thoughtful. “you're right, Al. What we need is an exterminator!” The Genie disappeared, and a swirl of smoke tornadoed up from the floor to reveal a half-cybernetic Genie, complete with a red-visored face mask and laser gun arms. Aladdin took a step back down the stairs.

“Genie!” he cried. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“Step aside sir I'm afraid you may be too close to the situation to get involved.”

“Oh boy,” Abu sighed.

“Genie,” Jasmine shouted over the hum of the electronic power suit. “Are there really rats in the Palace?”

“Affirmative.”

Aladdin gave Jasmine a look, and she threw it right back at him. She suddenly gave a startled cry and leapt back. A rat scurried away from her until it saw gold colored boots, and then scurried off toward the garden.

“Ok so there’s one rat,” Aladdin said, watching it go.

“Step aside, organic biped,” Cyber-Genie demanded, and lifted his laser arms to fire.

“Oh Genie don't kill it—” Jasmine began as the guns discharged. The red laser light enveloped the little rat, and then faded into a bubble. The bubble floated up with the little rat inside and drifted out over the desert.

“See?” Genie said, dropping out of costume.

Aladdin shook his head at him. “That wasn't a big rat, Genie.”

“Ok so maybe I overestimated its size a little,” Genie grinned sheepishly, but then puffed his chest out boldly. “But there could be more!” He snatched Abu off Aladdin’s shoulder, and suddenly the little monkey was dressed like a dogcatcher, with net in hand. “Come on, monkey-boy! We got some rats to catch!” Genie materialized himself his own net, and his eyes popped around spastically.

“Come on Genie I don't really think a couple of rats are going to hurt anybody—” Aladdin froze in mid-sentence, staring off beyond the rat catching Genie.

“Genie!” Jasmine cried as Aladdin grabbed her hand and ushered her back.

The Genie looked perplexed at them. “What? What’s wrong? You don't like the hat, do you? It makes me look cheap— oh, hello!”

A flurry of squirming, chittering fur seethed down the steps of the Palace, and the Genie leapt into the air before the sea of rats overtook him. They rushed into the garden, moving as if a single creature, pushing and tumbling over and over each other. There was no end to them in sight, and they began to fill the garden.

“Carpet!” Aladdin screamed as he and Jasmine rushed just ahead of the swarm. The Magic Carpet popped up over the Queen’s balcony to take a look, and immediately zipped through the air towards them. He barreled into the backs of their legs and caught them as they fell back, lifting them high out of the way of the massive sea of rats.

“Genie!” Aladdin shouted as their blue friend shot into the air to join them. “Do something!”

“You got it, Al.” He flung his wrists around full circle and shot off a shimmering stream of magic. The convulsing mess of rats was bathed in a pale wash of light. One by one, each creature floated off the Palace grounds, safely encased in their own little bubble. Genie sucked in a breath, his chest swelling up, and deflated, wafting the bubbles out over the wall and into the night.

Jasmine heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed against Aladdin’s shoulder.Carpet lowered them gently to the ground again. “I have never seen that many rats in the Palace before!” she exclaimed as Aladdin lifted her off the Carpet. “Only a few if any.”

Aladdin snorted. “I have never seen that many rats outside the Palace before.” He folded his arms across his chest and glared up at the Genie, who immediately knew what the look meant.

“wasn't me, Al,” Genie promised. “The only rodent in my bag of tricks gave us free tee shirts, remember?”

Aladdin pulled the sudden free tee shirt off over his head. He wasn't in the mood for bags of tricks or jokes, or a Palace full of rats. “This is perfect!” he shouted, flinging the shirt to the ground and storming up the steps. “This is exactly what I need right now!”

Jasmine stared up at the darkened spires of her beautiful home, her golden Palace, then glanced away at the blackness of night beyond the wall of the garden. A shudder ran the length of her spine. Rats in the Palace...

“This is what people think of me,” Aladdin was continuing, his voice slipping toward the edge of panic, which was so unlike him. “Word travels through this city like fire. Perfect! I'll have a Palace full of people who've come to laugh about the Rats in the Palace!” Jasmine’s head snapped around, and she saw him sink to the steps. He rested his head in his hands and sighed. “The Street Rat in the Palace.”

The Genie slunk down to comfort him, resting a big blue hand on the young Sultan’s shoulder. “Perk up, Al,” he said gently. “Nobody saw it happen but us and the monkey, and the monkey won't tell.”

Abu clapped his hands over his mouth.

“And you know that’s not what everyone thinks about you.”

Aladdin’s dark eyebrows dipped further and he angled his head away from Genie’s attempts at solace. Jasmine climbed the steps and made a seat of the stair beside her husband. She took his hand away from his face and held it in her own. It forced him to look at her. She felt for him. It ate away at her heart inside to see him so scared, and so unsure of where he stood. Tomorrow would mark him forever. It would build or burn him. He didn't need this on his mind, this obvious insult. “You will do fine,” she whispered into his troubled face.

“No,” he murmured. “I won't.” He stood and let her hand slip from his. Jasmine twisted to watch him fade into the Palace.

Abu scampered onto her shoulder and moaned after his friend. “Poor Al,” Genie sighed, and glanced down at Jasmine.

“Do you think it was a prank?” the young Queen asked slowly.

The Genie shrugged. “Kinda looks that way, Jas. You have to admit that.”

She was shaking her head, frowning. “But who?” She stood to follow Aladdin into the Palace. “Who could get that many rats into the Palace without someone noticing? Unless—” Her face and heart froze at the same instant.

Genie glanced back at her sudden silence.

Surprisingly enough, things were going smoothly.

Aladdin sat on the throne, looking nothing like the street rat Jasmine had met years ago in the marketplace. He sat tall before the Great Elephant Head, pale turban perched on his head. Looking dead calm, and Jasmine knew it was a façade he had built. He was smooth as stone on the outside, and swirling like a sandstorm within.

Merchants and townspeople came to bicker and quarrel over injustice, over prices of bread and quality of silk. Jasmine smiled and watched quietly, offering her husband words of encouragement and small bits and pieces of advice between cases. He started out a little shaky, but as he relaxed, is own intuition and instinct began to guide him. As the third eye, he found he could see what those who were too involved were blind to see. Some seemed so obvious that even Jasmine had to bite her lip to stifle a laugh. Others demanded far more consideration.

A young couple approached, cradling a little boy in their arms. Farook, a local merchant, stormed in beside them, his face dark as coal. The young mother was crying. “My baby—” she began. She couldn't continue through her tears, and her husband was only glad to.

“This monster!” he spluttered, throwing his hands out at the merchant. “This jackal almost killed my son!”

Aladdin grit his teeth and glanced at the quivering bundle in the young woman’s arms. The boy couldn't be more than 6.

“The little rat is a thief.” Farook waved the father’s words away with a careless hand. “I treat all thieves the same, no matter who they are.”

That comment won him harsh looks out of both Sultan and Queen.

“He is no thief!” the father screamed. “I was on my way to pay you, you monster!” Rasoul caught the young man back before he could pound his fists into Farook’s chest. “You monster!!” he screamed.

“Quiet,” Aladdin said calmly, waving his hand. The young father bit his tongue. Tears began falling instead. “Let me see the boy.”

The mother’s huge brown eyes stared up at the Sultan. She looked terrified of him. Aladdin smiled gently and offered his hand. She took a step forward, tears sliding from her eyes, and lowered the child away from her breast. Aladdin gently pulled the blanket back.

A pale little boy rested in her arms, his eyes gently shut. His arm lay across his chest. The stump on the end was wrapped tight with rags that were full saturated with blood.

“He won't wake up,” the young mother said, touching her forehead to his. Aladdin was frozen halfway out of his chair. There was a deep look of pity etched across his face.

“Oh—” Jasmine gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She went to the young woman and took her shivering shoulders.

“He’s a thief,” Farook spat. “He got what he deserves.”

“How dare you.” The father struggled in Rasoul’s mild grip.

Aladdin sat back, feeling sick. He had no idea how to deal with this. It was the law to punish a thief. He had avoided that fate so many times himself.

“Oh, Aladdin,” Jasmine sighed, touching the little boy’s chest. He wouldn't rouse. His chest moved lightly with each shallow breath.

Aladdin turned his head. “Genie!” he called.

Genie emerged out of a sudden puff of smoke. The young father’s face went awry. “How’s it goin’, Al?”

“Help him, Genie,” Aladdin breathed, ushering him to the sick little boy with a sweeping gesture.

The Genie took a scrutinizing look and squealed, poofing himself into a white nurse’s uniform, “Oh, the poor dear!” he exclaimed, popping a thermometer into the boy’s mouth and checking a pulse. “don't worry sweetie all he needs is a little tender Genie care!” he ushered the young mother off out of the throne room. Jasmine, Aladdin, Rasoul and the boy’s father turned to stare at Farook.

“You've done this before,” Aladdin said quietly.

“I punish anyone who steals from me,” Farook said defensively.

Aladdin stared at the merchant. “That’s the law.”

Farook shot a triumphant smile at the father, whose face fell a league. Rasoul had to hold him up, not back, as his knees gave beneath him. “You are a wise Sultan—” the merchant began smugly.

“But—” Aladdin interrupted, rising abruptly to his feet. Farook was silenced, and he stared up quizzically at the Sultan. “You have always acted without thinking. And you think without asking.”

“But— but, your Highness—” the merchant stammered, feeling the ground slip out from beneath him.

“Your haste once almost cost my Queen her hand.” He gestured at Jasmine, while offering Farook darkly unforgiving eyes. Farook dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor.

“Forgive me, Highness, I didn't know—”

“Precisely,” Aladdin snarled. He turned to the boy’s father. Rasoul had released him and he was standing on his own power. “You claim your boy is no thief.”

“I was coming to pay for him. He ran from me.”

“Show me what you have to pay with.”

The young man reached inside his vest and pulled out a full pouch. He emptied a few of the coins into his hand. Farook’s eyes widened at the site of gold. “I am a tailor. I sew the clothes I wear.”

Aladdin turned his eyes to the merchant. Farook pushed himself to his knees. “I...I apologize,” he forced from his lips.

“No apology could ever be enough,” the young man hissed, his eyes filling up with rage and tears. He turned those eyes to the Sultan, staring until the tears fell. He then spun away and ran from the throne room.

Farook looked up for his judgment. Aladdin stared at the throne room’s tall, open doors, as if he could still see the man who just ran through them. “You cost that man a lot,” he said quietly.

“Forgive me,” Farook pleaded.

Aladdin didn't look at him. “The law says you punish those who steal. But he stole nothing from you. And you stole so much from that family.”

Jasmine and Farook stared at the Sultan’s pensive profile. Rasoul’s eyebrows perked.

“This time the law does not apply to you.” Aladdin turned hard eyes to the merchant. “You no longer have the right to punish anyone alone. Rasoul.” He gestured toward the captain of the guard, who reached out like lightning and slid the scimitar off the merchant’s belt. “Any person you feel needs punish I will punish for you.”

Farook bowed with frightened eyes.

Aladdin stared at the merchant, who lay trembling on his knees. He sighed deep and folded his arms high across his chest. “You took from that family. Now you must give back.”

Farook glanced up. “But Sultan, what do I have to give?”

“You tell me.”

Farook sat back, glancing at each thick hand in turn. Dark, thick hands, worker’s hands. What did they have to offer? All the years of his life he spent, reaping the crop of a land he owned, and trading his goods for the stuffs of foreign lands, from the docks and ports of distant seas. All his life

“I can provide for him,” Farook whispered. “He shall never go hungry.”

Aladdin smiled, and sat.

The merchant stood and bowed. Two guards escorted him from the throne room. Jasmine smiled proudly at her young Sultan, and reached to touch his hand.

“Well done, Aladdin!” came mild applause. “What fine Sultan makes a rat!”

Jasmine clutched Aladdin’s arm fiercely as he stood to greet the stranger, who paraded casually into the open throne room. “That’s him!” she hissed, feeling painful thrills traveling her spine.

He glided toward them, with long, silvery white hair moving with him like wind. He wore a long black coat, belted at his waist with gold, and black leather leg splints above soft leather boots folded short. The costume of an Eastern Bandit. There was a gold brace across his right wrist, and a gold bracelet on the other. Far more stunning than the way of his dress, though, was the cold look of his sharp blue eyes. Aladdin sucked a breath through his teeth. “It was you.”

The young man smiled, and bowed gracefully. “Yes, milord. It was me.”

“What do you want?” Aladdin forced through tightly clenched teeth.

“I have come to return you this,” he replied mildly, and offered out the arrow, laid across both his palms. Jasmine gasped. “Actually,” he smiled, and turned to the Queen. “It’s for you.”

Rasoul drew his sword as he approached the stranger, realizing precisely who it was and intent on finishing the job the arrow failed to accomplish.

“Oh, no thank you,” the young man said, and white light burned his eyes away as he flung the arrow out at the captain of the guard.

“No!” Jasmine cried as Rasoul threw out his arms to shield himself. The arrow splintered into streams of light, that wove themselves around Rasoul and pulled tight. They faded into white rope. Rasoul’s sword fell from his hand, and he lost balance and toppled over.

The stranger turned back to the Sultan and Queen with a flat dead grin stretched across his face.

A pillar of smoke shot up from the floor between them, and Charlie took a step back. Out of the plume emerged the Genie, towering high above the young sorcerer, his arms folded across his chest. He leaned down and threw and intimidating one-eyed glare at the man.

Charlie laughed. “I see you have a pet.”

Genie’s eyes popped wide open. “Pet? I am a Genie, boy!” he said indignantly, prodding Charlie’s chest with one big blue finger.

Charlie blinked. “Genie?”

Genie puffed out his chest and struck a pose. “Semi-phenomenal, nearly cosmic powers!”

“Ah,” Charlie nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. “Free Genie.”

“How did you know that?” Aladdin asked, peering around his Genie’s legs.

Charlie flashed him a narrow smile. “Because he’s weak.” The sorcerer’s eyes went white an instant before his body exploded into a million shards of blinding light. The Genie shrunk to Aladdin’s side, offering a protective arm.

“Your Highness!” Rasoul shouted, writhing on the ground.

Sparkles of light fluttered through the throne room, casting flickering shadows across the floor and their faces. “What do you want from us?” Aladdin shouted, stepping off the throne amidst the light show. “What have we done to you?”

“We first met,” replied a voice that seemed a 1000 voices, coming from each spark of light. “And you tried to kill me.”

Aladdin winced.

“We feared for our safety!” Jasmine cried, as the swimming pieces of light began to spin together.

“I never caused you harm,” the voices reminded. The light was swirling like a whirlwind, sparking and crackling with blinding white lightning.

Three palace guards threw open the doors and stopped dead just inside them, with swords half drawn. “What are you waiting for?” Rasoul shouted. “Kill it!”

The first guard let his arms dangle. “How?”

The second ran to the captain and cut his binds. Rasoul lunged to his feet and stripped the guard of his sword. He reached back far behind his head and flung the sword with every ounce of strength he possessed. The sword hit the whirlwind dead center, and it shattered. As the light flew out it reformed into two beams, flying one way and the other. They rushed from the palace at either side of the throne, each plummeting through a pillar. The pillars exploded, and Aladdin rushed to shield Jasmine. The ceiling above them began to crack, branching out from the elephant’s head like millions of little rivers.

“Genie!” Aladdin screamed, and, taking the cue, the Genie rushed up to the roof. He pressed his palms against it and sent magic rippling back along each crack. Everyone watched breathlessly as the ceiling healed under Genie’s hands. The pillar’s re-pieced themselves and the cracks were cemented with golden light.

Beaming with coy, smuggish pride, the Genie drifted back down, dusting off his hands. “Call that weak!” he grinned.

Aladdin hugged him tight, relieved. “Thanks, Genie!”

Rasoul stalked the border of the throne room, searching the sky and palace grounds. Both were empty. The sky was clear and blue, and the stranger was gone.

Alea lifted her mixing bowl up and out of the way as the beam of light jumped over the far balcony ledge and barreled into the kitchen. She replaced the bowl and kept stirring once the light had passed. A chair toppled over and a vase broke before the light shot out of the kitchen. “Charlie, sweetie, dinner’s almost ready!” she shouted, and poured the bowl of gravy over a big mess of mashed potatoes.

“I'm not hungry,” he growled from somewhere out in the hall.

Humming, Alea picked something light and cool to drink and poured two goblets full. She danced out into the hall and planted herself down beside him on the floor. “Then drink,” she said, and offered a goblet. He took it and tapped it lightly against hers before dragging a long sip. “don't throw up,” she told him, brushing his wild hair back out of his face. He lowered his cup and thought he might.

He handed the goblet back and shifted away from her some. He unclasped the belt at his waist and let it fall to the floor. He tugged at his coat. Alea set both cups on the floor and helped him pull it off.

“You shouldn't do this,” she said, looking straight into his sweaty, tired face, as he leaned his head back against the wall. “You shouldn't torment people.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why do you think that’s what I am doing?”

She cocked her head at him and smiled. “Because if it wasn't, you wouldn't have looked at me that way.” She laughed at the second look she received and jumped out of his way as he reached for her.

“Come back,” he said up to her.

“No,” she smiled, holding fistfuls of her skirt and sweeping it slowly side to side. “Come eat.”

“I'm not hungry,” he insisted.

“Hah!” she huffed, and gave one goblet a solid kick. Charlie twisted his head away and the goblet froze inches from his face. Balls of wine glimmered like jewels, captured in time. Alea smiled. “Come eat,” she said, and spun away on her heels.

Updated 08-25-99

Charlie stalked the palace, in such a dark mood that Alea chose to keep her distance. His eyes burned white and his face was distant, but no magic stirred the air within the Sky Palace. Alea watched him from behind corners and within shadows, knowing that the magic must go somewhere. For the years of her life she didn't understand him sometimes. And it was she who understood him better than most. But he was a fey creature, and she human, and there existed worlds beyond her complete comprehension.

A spiky brown ball rolled out from between her feet and into the hallway. “Kenzie!” she hissed. “Come back!”

The ball hit Charlie’s feet and bounced open into a spiky little creature with a long, spiky tail. Charlie glared down at it and almost blasted the little thing out of existence before realizing what it was. Kenzie opened his wide mouth and squealed, displaying two rows of tiny, razor-sharp teeth, and scurried back toward Alea. She gasped and ducked back, her cover blown, and tried to melt into the shadows. The young wizard stepped up to her, and knelt down to her eye level. His eyes were blue again.

“You follow me.”

She reached and touched his lips with one slender finger, silencing him. “You frighten me.”

He gently took her hand away from his face. “You need never fear me, Alea.”

She smiled skeptically at him. She swept back strands of fiery red hair and lifted her chin at him. “What magic are you making?”

He frowned at her. “don't worry about that.”

“I can't help it.”

He made to rise and she grabbed his wrist.

“you're hurting people, Charlie.”

He stared hard at her. She lifted her head defiantly and said

“When you don't tell me otherwise, that is what I believe.”

“I haven't hurt them—”

Alea pounced to her feet and into his arms, inches from his face. “You admit it!” she crowed. “You are annoying someone!”

He looked surprised. “I didn't say that—”

She tiptoed her fingers up his chest. “You don't hurt them, but you throw magic at them. Which means—” She tapped the tip of his nose with her fingertip, and he blinked. “you're annoying them!!” She slipped out of his arms and spun out of reach.

He caught his wild hair back and bound it. “you're teasing me,” he said quietly, smiling some. The young gypsy rolled her eyes, confirming it. “What do you want of me?”

“Answers,” she replied mildly, sweeping her skirt as she took dance steps down the hall. “Who are they?”

“Nobody.” He was grinning now, following behind her.

“What are you doing to them?”

“Nothing. One more question.”

They reached an airy balcony, where Sky Palace opened up to the large, pale blue sky. She leapt up onto the rail and began to dance across it. “If I were to fall,” she crowed, “would you turn me into a bird?”

He stared at her, an odd smile on his face. The drop from the balcony was no short one. So far it would shatter a pebble to grains of sand. Sky Palace hung suspended above that ground, aloft without pillars or towers to keep it there. Connected only to the nearby mountains with a single, winding stone path. She was dancing on the balcony rail. “Perhaps I'd make you a feather,” he whispered.

“Perhaps you'll tell me a secret.” She paused to direct a meaningful pair of eyes in his direction.

His shoulders dropped. “You don't play fair, Lady Alea,” he said.

“My guess,” she replied, flipping her long pony tail at him, “is neither do you!” In one step she vanished off the balcony.

Charlie cried out and rushed to the rail, closing his eyes and releasing magic enough out of him to turn the desert to glass. The tiny feather drifted down, toyed with by swimming air currents, and Charlie watched it, exhausted. Leaning against the rail, he summoned a gentle gust of wind to send his feather back to him. He caught it between his fingertips.

“Shall I tuck you away?” he asked it. “Or make of you a fine feather cap?” He turned and released the feather out over the balcony floor. It swirled into an Alea. She brushed out her skirt and smoothed her hair.

Updated 09-01-99

“I don't understand what he wants from us.”

“Obviously he is here to destroy all of Agrabah,” Rasoul growled, folding his arms across his burly chest. “He obviously knows a weak Sultan when he sees one.”

Aladdin shot the guard a death look.

“He hasn't hurt anybody,” Jasmine insisted. “And we've tried to kill him twice.”

“He was provoking us, your Highness,” Rasoul explained carefully to the young Queen. “We are only taking the necessary precautions to protect your safety.”

Jasmine’s hands flew to her hips. “And when was I ever in any danger?”

The Sultan took on a look that mirrored hers and they both waited expectantly for an answer. Rasoul already knew exactly what to say. “Highness,” he began, addressing one or both of them. “The moment that street rat took the throne, we all were placed in danger.”

Aladdin’s face went hot, but he bit his tongue.

“Aladdin has saved this city more times than I can remember!” Jasmine said in defense of her king. The young Sultan shifted uncertainly on the throne. It suddenly seemed far too large for him to sit in. “I trust him far more than any prince that ever came to court me.”

“But, Queen Jasmine,” Rasoul continued calmly. “It is well and good that you trust him, but what about the rest of Agrabah? Who likes to see a rat perched on the throne? And what of the Seven Deserts herself? What do they think of a city whose rats play kings?”

Aladdin stood. “They won't take us seriously.”

Rasoul offered the Sultan a vicious grin. “Correct,” he drawled. “And everyone knows our Sultan’s history of making fast enemies. He is no close friend to sorcerers.”

“So he’s come to take this city.” Aladdin stepped away from the throne, and walked between the Captain and his Queen.

“How can you say that, Aladdin?” Jasmine said to his back. “You don't know that’s true.”

He turned to glare miserably at her. “But the rest of it is true! You can't dress up a rat and make him a Sultan!” He ripped the turban off his head. “My father taught me that.”

“You have proven your worth to me—” Jasmine began imploringly.

“But not to the people of Agrabah. Not to him.” He gestured sharply at Rasoul. “There are people like him. they'll never accept me.”

“And why should they?” the Captain wondered out loud. “There is no royal bone in your body.”

“And that makes him no less a good person,” Jasmine said, hands at her hips again. “No less able to rule this land.”

“Perhaps,” Rasoul smirked. “But far more vulnerable.”