A Whole New World (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,34

belted tightly across her belly so they moved with the slightest bump of her hips. She used to wear a close-fitting top that exposed her midriff and arms, but now had a loose black shirt made of the same material that tied up her mass of impenetrable black curls.

Her normally aristocratically hooked nose was squinched like she smelled something bad, and her ample lips were pursed. The dimple on her cheek that used to show when she smiled was nowhere to be found.

“I don’t remember asking you over to dinner,” she said.

“I was in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d drop by,” he quipped. “What’s cooking?”

“Aladdin!” Duban came forward with a much more genuine smile. It faded after a moment, as if he only just then remembered something about his old friend. The thief looked exactly the same as he always did, if a little taller: square, thickset, with surprisingly intelligent eyes in an otherwise wide and open face. His long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and held with golden rings. Golden rings were in his ears now, too. “Come, sit down, break some bread with us.”

Aladdin looked at the additional sets of eyes watching him from the darkness. Morgiana and Duban he had known forever. He couldn’t say that about everyone else. Their little gang of thieves had grown over the years; if for some reason anything got ugly, it would be hard to escape.

But he was already this far in.…

“Absolutely,” he said with forced jollity. And yet even the fake smile slipped from his face as he approached the pile of pillows and rugs. Safe for the moment, exhaustion almost overwhelmed him. He still hadn’t eaten much, and the events of the past several days were taking their toll.

Morgiana’s expression softened.

“Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, waving a hand at her. He collapsed as gracefully as he could at a low table and tried to reach for some grapes as slowly and nonchalantly as possible.

“We’ll get you some water,” Morgiana decided. She made a clicking noise and raised her chin at one of the much younger thieves in the dark. “Another cup for our guest. Hazan, go!”

A little boy leapt up quick as a shadow to fulfill her request.

“What’s been going on with you?” Duban asked, settling down next to him. “You look like you’ve been in combat.”

“Aw, it’s nothing. Just in trouble, as usual,” Aladdin said. When the boy reappeared with his drink, he sipped it slowly as if it was no big deal. Then he threw five grapes into the air and caught them in his mouth, swallowing without chewing. “I think a bigger question is, what has happened to Agrabah in the last few days while I’ve been…otherwise occupied?”

Duban laughed. “Wouldn’t we all like to know! It seems as if creepy Grand Vizier Jafar is now creepy Sultan Jafar.”

“I noticed that,” Aladdin said, nodding.

“It’s actually been…surprisingly okay,” Morgiana admitted. “The regime change, I mean. Not too much violence. No military uprising. And life under the new sultan has—so far—been pretty good. No one in the city has gone hungry since he took over. Everyone in the Quarter of the Street Rats has had full bellies—for the first time in their lives, some of them. No one has had to steal food because of all the handouts.”

“Which makes our livelihood a little unstable,” Duban said with a wry smile. “Especially with Jafar’s announcement about new Peacekeeping Patrols that will walk the city now. Crime is already down.”

“But other than us, everyone’s been pretty happy,” Morgiana added cheerfully. “Nobody cares that Jafar killed ol’ whitebeard in cold blood.”

Aladdin choked on a grape.

“Killed?”

“Yes,” Duban said with a philosophical shrug. “Despite the largesse, Jafar isn’t exactly an angel. He called everyone in the city to gather in front of the Public Balcony and announced he was the new sultan. And then he threw the old sultan over the railing. Just like that.”

“After he made it rain gold,” Morgiana pointed out. With a familiar flick of her fingers a small coin appeared in her hand. It glittered ominously in the lamplight. Aladdin noticed piles of more of the same coins behind her. Like tiny versions of the mountains of gold treasures in the Cave of Wonders.

He frowned and took the coin from her. She didn’t object—unlike the old Morgiana, who would have yelped and grabbed it back. She merely watched him as he carefully held it between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it in the