A Whole New World (Disney Twisted Tales) - Liz Braswell Page 0,38

wanted more kids, or grandkids, or his wife back. It was complicated.

A quiet tick from the corner of the room sent Aladdin flying behind a table and Abu and the carpet into other hiding places.

No one appeared.

The ticking continued.

Aladdin lifted his head and saw that on one of the tables was a model of Agrabah—a different one, an imaginary clean one—that was accurate down to the calendar clock tower that rose above the central square. That was what was making the noise. A tiny working version of the real thing: a miniscule golden half-moon popped out and turned a degree on the dial.

Aladdin shook his head—either at himself or at the dead sultan and his hobbies.

Ten minutes. He heard the scraping of shoes again.

He gestured frantically to the room beyond the one he was in. The carpet and Abu followed close behind as he ducked down and crab-walked quickly to what looked like a room with no discernible purpose. There was a brazier with coals smoldering in the corner and an incense burner sending smoke up to the ceiling next to a low divan, but no one was on it.

More footsteps. From the other direction!

Aladdin dove under the divan, sucking in his breath to fit.

He couldn’t see the faces of these new guards from his position but was pretty sure there were more of them this time—three, maybe, or four, walking in perfect synchronicity. The guards he had avoided twice before met up with them in the middle of the room; Aladdin watched their feet and heard the smart smacking of spears against each other in a military salute.

Then each set of guards kept going in the direction they had been headed.

Aladdin started counting again, frustrated. This was bad: he hadn’t allowed extra time for waiting on guards to complete their circuits. Impatient to move, he got up, deciding to take a risk; he knew he had at least ten minutes from the one set of guards and figured they would all probably be on the same clock.

Wrong!

Aladdin slammed himself against the closest wall as the second set of guards passed by the door, moving in an entirely different direction.

Abu scampered across the cold hall to be close to him, his tiny toenails clicking against the floor.

The guards stopped.

“Abdullah, wait. Did you hear something?”

Aladdin closed his eyes and tried to still his heart. The silence was so complete and profound he was certain they could hear it beating.

“I heard something—in the room with the incense.”

“It was probably just a mouse, or a monkey.”

“I will not lose my head over something which turns out not to be a mouse.”

Aladdin winced as the concerned guard walked to the door, spear raised.

All he had to do was step four inches farther into the room.

The guard made a thorough scan of the place, turning his head slowly back and forth.

Aladdin opened one eye and almost caught his breath when he saw how close to him the shiny, sharp spear tip was.

The silence stretched on.

“It’s nothing,” the guard decided.

As he stepped back to rejoin his companion, Aladdin practically crumpled with relief.

He wasted no time, scurrying out of the room and ducking under a window through which the moon shone like a spotlight. Then he stopped, caught by the view outside.

Spread over what must have been at least a hectare or two was the most beautiful garden he had ever seen.

There was an entire miniature forest of cedar, cypress, and other sweet-smelling pines that couldn’t normally live in the hot and dry Agrabah. There were formal rows of roses and other delicately petaled flowers. There was a garden just of mountain plants. There was a pool filled with flowering white lilies and their pads, and pink lotuses taller than most men. There was a fountain as big as a house and shaped like an egg. There was a delicate white aviary that looked like a giant’s birdcage. Strangely, there were no birds in it.

And everywhere, entwined around every tiny building and every balustrade and every topiary ball, was jasmine. White jasmine, pink jasmine, yellow jasmine, night-flowering jasmine…The smell was heady enough to make Aladdin feel a little drunk.

Jasmine.

This was her garden.

She had to be close. Aladdin hurried on.

There was definitely a feminine change to the décor as he tiptoed through the dusty twilight of the slumbering palace: more soft rugs, more shapely urns, more wall hangings, more flowers and plants. He passed through a sitting room filled with silk cushions and low tables scattered with bowls