eyes. “Duban said he showed up at our doorstep this morning, right after we left. There was a ribbon—a ribbon—around his neck and a note saying that we should be on the lookout for a particular book in Jafar’s wagons. Al-something-or-other. It was signed, ‘the genie.’”
“Ha!” Aladdin nuzzled Rajah with his own nose. “I like this new way of getting us intel. It’s much safer than having him and Jasmine meet.”
“Well, I think we’d need a lot more tigers,” Morgiana said skeptically. “But that would make Ahmed and Shirin happy. They’ve already adopted Rajah for themselves. And Maruf does not trust the big cat with his grandkids.”
“Maruf is here? Where?” Aladdin asked delightedly.
“At this hour? Probably in the kitchen making breakfast.”
“Of course! I’ll join him there.”
“Of course,” Morgiana muttered. She wandered away, waving her hands in the air and continuing to talk to herself in exasperation. “Genies? Tigers? Magic books? When did my life come to this?”
Aladdin took off down several labyrinthine passageways and confusingly connected cellars, ending up in the surprisingly spacious and airy kitchen of some large old-fashioned house that had no windows, only skylights. Over a giant stove with an equally giant pan was Maruf, Duban’s elderly father. He was grinning and talking and jumping around a crowd of hungry kids, managing not to spill a drop of oil on his crazy beard or miss a hungry outstretched hand. It was especially amazing considering his stiff left leg that didn’t move—he used it as a pivot, twirling around on his heel.
Everyone got a piece of hot bread and, from a giant jar in the corner, a dollop of sweet cheese.
“Aladdin!” Maruf called the moment he saw him. “I’m just reheating your favorite—nan-e sangak. Made ’em last night. Here!”
He spun the pan and a round piece of bread flew through the air. Aladdin snatched it and tossed it to the other hand immediately; it was too hot to eat.
Maruf threw his head back and barked out laughter. “You never change, Aladdin. Always trying to bite into things that are too dangerous.”
“Me?” Aladdin asked, licking his thumb. “What about you? When you were my age?”
“Ha! I was just telling them, these kids, they have no idea,” Maruf said, shaking his head. “When I was their age…why, even if I was just a few years younger, I’d show them a thing or two about evading the market guards!”
Two of the children ran forward and leapt onto Maruf’s legs, clinging despite the danger of the hot oil and fire.
“Ahmed! Shirin! You’re going to kill me!” But the old man was grinning.
Aladdin looked at the kids. They seemed familiar…but from where? Then he placed them. They were the ones he had given his bread to just a week or so earlier.
“Are they…?” he said slowly.
“Kazireh’s kids. My grandchildren,” Maruf said proudly.
Aladdin knelt down and tickled each one on the nose.
“I think we’ve met,” he said.
“We have a pet lion!” the little boy, Ahmed, told him.
“Tiger, Ahmed. He has stripes,” Shirin corrected gently. “And we’ve been taking care of Abu for you.”
“That’s great. The poor thing could use a little extra love,” Aladdin said, popping the now-cool piece of bread in his mouth. “Er, speaking of, does anyone know where Jasmine is?”
Maruf looked at him slyly.
“Yes…she’s in the…‘study.’ I’m sure you’re eager to discuss important business with her.”
Aladdin pretended he didn’t hear the implication in the older man’s tone and gave him a little bow in thanks, hands pressed together. He backed out of the room and returned the way he had come, into the twisty maze of storage spaces and secret tunnels the Street Rats had carved underneath the abandoned neighborhood. The “study” was a large room with a plain rectangular rug spread out in the middle. Drawn on the rug in chalk was a sketchy map of Agrabah. Small bricks and square blocks of stone highlighted important buildings and landmarks. Around it stood an attentive group of Street Rats.
Jasmine was on her hands and knees, pushing around little piles of pebbles that represented the thieves and beggar children who made up her troops. She carefully explained the plan to her audience and then had them repeat it word for word before they skittered off to do her bidding. Soon they were all gone and Aladdin sat down beside her.
“Hey, what’s that?” he asked, suddenly noticing several chalk marks on the wall. He initially thought they were random, but then he realized that they were four elongated triangles…like claw marks from a