he was small for his age, slender and slight, with a large head and equally large eyes. He always passed for a child years younger than he was, and he was making himself look very, very young and very, very hungry right then. And somehow he wound up right in front of the girl.
Aladdin couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it was obvious from the pitying look on her face what the tone was. She was a perfect mark.
Abu chattered at him. If the human wasn’t going to finish his melon like a smart person, the monkey would very much like to eat it.
“Shhh!” Aladdin ordered.
What happened next was nothing he—or any Street Rat—could possibly have foreseen.
The beautiful girl took an apple from the closest stall and gave it to the boy.
And then walked away.
The Street Rat looked at the apple and her retreating backside, confused.
The fruit merchant grabbed her and demanded his money.
She shrugged and shook her head as if he was insane.
The Street Rat—and everyone else—watched her like she was insane. Which she must have been. She had just planned to take that apple? And give it away? Without paying for it?
The merchant also stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending. Then he grabbed her and threw her against the stall. A crowd gathered to watch. Some men mumbled and protested into their own scarves, but no one moved to help her. The merchant pulled out an extremely sharp khanjar and raised it above her wrist.
By the time she started shrieking, Aladdin was already in the air and halfway to the stall.
“Nobody steals from my cart!” the merchant bellowed. The point of his blade gleamed red in the afternoon light.
“No!” the girl screamed.
The knife descended quickly, whistling in the air.
The crowd gasped.
“Thank you, kind sir,” Aladdin said, suddenly between the merchant and the girl.
Before anyone had a chance to even register this newcomer’s presence, he gently pushed the man’s arm away with one hand and grabbed the girl with his other.
“A thousand blessings to you for finding my sister.”
“What?” the man asked, confused. “You know this girl?”
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Aladdin said, admonishing the girl and waggling a finger in her face.
The girl was more than a little confused herself.
“What are you…?” she began to ask.
“Sssht!” Aladdin mouthed. “Just play along!”
“Explain yourself! She was stealing from my cart!” the merchant yelled.
“My apologies, good sir. My sister…sometimes causes trouble. She wandered off from home again,” Aladdin said sorrowfully. He tapped the side of his head. “Sadly, she is a little crazy.”
The girl seemed furious at those words. Aladdin gave her a desperate look.
Finally she got it.
She nodded her head slightly.
“She said she knew the sultan,” the merchant spat. He made a big show of letting his eyes travel up and down Aladdin. With her large golden earrings, perfect health, and glowing skin, the girl seemed like someone who might know the sultan. And Aladdin, with his threadbare pants, was definitely not.
Aladdin’s mind raced.
Abu chattered inquisitively from the ground. The monkey obviously sensed the general trouble in the air.
That was it.
“She thinks the monkey is the sultan,” Aladdin whispered loudly into the merchant’s ear. Loudly enough for the crowd—and the girl—to hear.
“Oh, uh, wise, great Sultan,” the girl began uncertainly, taking his cue.
She looked at the muck-covered ground and then the sharp khanjar the merchant still had, which was aimed at Aladdin now.
She threw herself into the dirt, prostrating herself in front of Abu.
“How may I serve you?”
The men and women in the crowd made tching noises and sounds of general sympathy; they began to disperse from the embarrassing scene.
The merchant watched the pretty girl in the street dust and began to look convinced.
This was where Aladdin had to finish up quickly and get out, before anything went south. He palmed another apple off the cart.
“Tragic, isn’t it?” he sighed regretfully. He handed the merchant the apple. “Well, no harm done. Come on, Sis, we should get you back home to Aunt Idina now.”
The girl stood up and tried to make her eyes look all goofy and crazy. It was a bit much, Aladdin thought, but not half bad for a naive rich girl. He put his hands on her shoulders and steered her through the crowd. She let herself be guided, walking stiffly—more like a ghoul than a crazy person, but whatever. It was good enough.
She stopped in front of a camel.
“Hello, Auntie Idina!” she said with a wide, dumb smile.
“That’s not Auntie,” he said