A Whole New World (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,28

not quite heaven. Their eyes seemed fiery as well.

Behind them was a battalion of people juggling silver scimitars that looked sharp enough to slice the sky. Despite their wielders’ unbelievable skill Aladdin found himself flinching.

Behind these were several dozen scantily clad dancing girls. They were beautiful, voluptuous, graceful. They all looked oddly alike. Not like sisters, not like cousins, not like members of an all-too-closely-related harem. It was more their bearing. The grins on their faces were the same and didn’t quite reach their eyes.

Aladdin felt as uneasy about the girls as he had about the scimitars and the fire-eaters.

Close on their heels rolled what looked to Aladdin’s practiced eye like a perfect replica of the palace—in gold. Possibly solid gold, from the strain of the horses pulling it. Tiny clockwork figures—including a miniature Jasmine—waved from its miniature balconies.

Behind this marched an entire zoo of albino animals. Which was more than a little weird, because many of the animals weren’t the kind you could train for marching. Like the crocodiles, for instance. And the peacocks, which kept perfect formation. There were a few handlers, a few whips, and a few leashes, but everything seemed oddly in order.

Following these were elephants. Not normal elephants. These were huge—much bigger than even the ones from the western jungles across the sea. All had tusks that swooped and curved out longer than the length of a man. Some of them had four tusks. And their eyes were much, much smaller than a normal elephant’s. And they had fur.

On top of the largest of these was a jeweled, canopied saddle. And atop that sat Jafar. The sultan’s closest adviser. Some said the scariest man in Agrabah.

The one Rasoul had said was responsible for Aladdin’s arrest and subsequent dismissal to the dungeons.

Jafar was grinning, a look that was as unnatural on him as it was on the dancing girls below. With his left hand he waved to the cheering crowds. Whenever he gave an extra flourish with it, small golden coins and bread rained out of the sky.

The people went wild, adults and children falling over themselves to grab the bounty.

Aladdin frowned. Jafar, though widely rumored to have dealings in the dark arts, had never exhibited any powers like this before.

The explanation might have been with the creature that floated sadly behind him, just above his monstrous elephant. It looked mostly like a man—a blue man—whose bottom half was smoke.

A djinn.

Jafar had found himself a djinn. Aladdin had thought they were the stuff of legend. His mother used to tell him bedtime stories about them and ifrits and marids and all sorts of other unlikely creatures who had all been dead for a thousand years.

This one looked like he wished he was dead. His body drooped and his face was a study in misery. Every time Jafar wiggled his hand, the genie would point his finger sadly, another shower of coins and bread would appear, and the crowds would cheer.

Aladdin craned his head, trying to see why Jafar only raised his left hand.

He mounted the carpet so he could be raised up for a better view. There.

In Jafar’s right hand he clutched an old brass lamp like it was his most treasured possession. Like a baby, or a fistful of gems.

Old brass lamp?

Suddenly, the pieces began to fall together, far too quickly for Aladdin’s still heat-addled brain.

Jafar was the evil old man. In fact, now that Aladdin was actually looking at him in person, the resemblance was unmistakable. All it would take was a fake beard and some robes and some—surprisingly good—acting. Jafar had thrown Aladdin into the dungeons under false pretenses specifically to get him to retrieve the lamp…the lamp in which the genie was imprisoned, just like in the stories. And genies granted wishes.

One of those wishes must have involved making Jafar the sultan and allowing him to take over Agrabah, wield power over the citizens, and organize this very, very weird parade.

Aladdin let the carpet slip him back into the shadows.

Things were confusing. Where was the old sultan? Where was Jasmine? Were they prisoners? Had she run away? Was she—no, he wasn’t going to think about the third possibility. He just wasn’t.

He needed to rest, regroup, and think for a while. He was reluctant to return to his hideout, however. Jafar probably thought he was dead in the desert…but Aladdin didn’t like the way the sorcerer somehow had known where he and Jasmine were before. Almost like he was watching them from afar.