Jasmine, and Abu made it to a section that came close to some high-growing palm trees. Where, somewhat ironically, Jasmine had made her escape not that long ago. It would have been impossible to make the leap with the tiger—and a lot easier with the magic carpet. It wasn’t right leaving them behind; the party felt light and lonesome.
Aladdin lay flat on the top of the wall and lowered Jasmine down as far as he could reach. She had to fall the last ten feet onto the prickly treetops. Her landing, while not perfect, was good enough, and the part of her hair that got caught on the sharp fronds would grow back.
Aladdin leapt down right after, his wound burning as the skin stretched. Blood trickled down his side.
They scuttled down the trees like lizards. When they hit the ground, they ran as fast and as lightly as their feet would take them to the Quarter of the Street Rats.
They hadn’t gotten far when a strange sound grew out of the dark like the ticking of an enormous centipede. One with large, pointy shoes.
Jasmine paused, a finger to her lips, when Aladdin looked at her questioningly.
“We have to hide!” she whispered.
Aladdin looked around and found what seemed to be an abandoned house. Seemed because all of Agrabah—apart from the palace—seemed abandoned that night. Every house was black, either with shutters and screens tightly closed or only a few lamps lit. Even in the wealthy quarters, the teahouses and bars and wine gardens were empty. The silence that Aladdin had first encountered when returning from the cave in the desert was somehow deepened by the eerie, regular tap-tapping.
Stepping through the door that hung brokenly on its hinges, they saw little furniture inside, and what remained was broken and trashed. Dust and the endless desert sand covered everything. The place was obviously empty. Jasmine sank wearily on a rotten old pillow that was probably full of bugs—but it didn’t look like she cared.
Aladdin stayed close by the door so he could watch through a crack.
Passing by only a few feet from the door was a phalanx of six…guards. Aladdin couldn’t figure out what else to call them. Their uniforms were shiny and black like those of the sistrum shakers in the parade. Their movements were perfect and synchronous. They held unusual shiny metal weapons that were long but only had blades at the tip. They wore boots like horse riders did, with metal worked into the leather at the heels.
But it was their faces…and their eyes…that made Aladdin wonder. They all looked the same. Like the pretty girl dancers in the parade. Again, more than just like cousins or brothers…There was a perfect similarity to their expressions, from their strangely blank black eyes to their straight-as-a-line mouths. Like statues, or puppets, or…
Aladdin shuddered without knowing why.
“What are they?” he swore after they passed by.
“Jafar’s new Peacekeeping Patrols,” Jasmine said with a weary sigh. “They are…well, I don’t know what exactly they are. They just kind of keep showing up. More magic, somehow.”
As she spoke, she took her hair out of its clasps and thongs and began to run her fingers through it. Dusty and ragged though it was, Aladdin still would have very much liked to do it for her. To brush it back from behind her ears…
“The patrols are only part of Jafar’s big plans for Agrabah. They march through the city on rounds all night. To keep crime down. So he says. Some people like it, I guess. They feel safer. So he says.”
“They seem a little…weird.”
Jasmine’s face was pale and listless. They had escaped and should have been reveling in triumph, but she didn’t seem that excited. Actually, now that he thought about it, Aladdin didn’t feel that excited, either. He was relieved, of course. But he felt terrible about the magic carpet. And he had seen other things in the past week that were much harder, much heavier than anything he had ever had to deal with before.
“I’m sorry about your father,” he said softly, sitting down next to her.
Jasmine’s face hardened. There was a light in her eyes now, but it was angry and ominous. She stretched her fingers out and back like a tiger unsheathing its claws.
“Jafar killed him. Right in front of me. I had no idea he…hated my father so much. He could have done anything else to him. With all of his power, he could have banished him, or turned him into a