“You’re only a fool if you give up, boy.”
Aladdin spun around.
There was nothing but shadows and rats. But the voice was creaky and weak—human, not ghostly. One of the other prisoners must still have had a little life left in him.
“Who are you?” Aladdin called out to the shadows. “Show yourself!”
There was the rattle of chains and the light scuffling sound of something bony and hard against the floor. An ancient man hobbled out of the dark. He seemed barely to have the strength to stand, much less move. There were no manacles binding him. There was a light left in his eyes—a crazy one.
Aladdin found himself a little afraid of the strange specter.
“I’m merely a lowly prisoner like yourself,” the old man continued, revealing that he still had most of his teeth—but they pointed in every direction, thin and yellow with age, like toothpicks. He used an ugly old piece of firewood as a cane and forced himself sideways with the shuffling motion of a crab. “But together, maybe we can be more.”
He rubbed his fingers together suggestively, as if he was counting gold coins. Aladdin found himself relaxing. A man with the craze of greed in his eyes was something Aladdin was used to.
“I’m listening,” he said.
“There is a cave. A cave of wonders, boy, filled with treasures beyond your wildest dreams!” He stuck a gnarled hand into his threadbare robe. When he pulled out his closed fist, shoved it into Aladdin’s face, and opened it, the boy almost fell back in surprise.
Rubies.
Three of them. Huge. Dusty and old, with the facets of one chipped and in need of the hand of a skilled jeweler. But rubies nonetheless. Those three would have bought most of the Quarter of the Street Rats—and the people who lived there, as well.
“Treasure enough to impress even your ‘princess,’ I would wager,” the old man said with a crafty smile, taking them back and hiding them again.
Aladdin felt a blush wash over his face quickly before disappearing.
The rubies…
He started to smile. That was more wealth than he had ever seen up close. Enough to buy horses, fancy clothes, servants…
…and then his smile faded. Until that moment Aladdin never would have imagined that limitless treasure wouldn’t be enough for him.
“It doesn’t matter how much gold or jewels I get,” he said morosely. “She has to marry a prince. I have to come from a noble family, a line of princes. Or be granted the title and lands, which I can’t really see the sultan doing anytime in the near future.”
The old man struggled for a moment, frowning and wheezing as some undefined pain bothered him. Then he took a deep breath and stuck his face into Aladdin’s.
“You’ve heard of the Golden Rule, haven’t you? Whoever has the gold makes the rules!” The man laughed—perhaps insanely; perhaps he genuinely thought himself funny. Aladdin noticed as the old man’s lips were spread wide with mirth that his only healthy-looking tooth was gold.
“All right,” Aladdin said cautiously. It was true: money bought almost anything. All the guards could be bribed to look the other way with enough gold or gifts. All the guards except for Rasoul, of course. He was like a big, stupid rock of morality. Maybe sultans and kings could be bribed, too…or haggled with. Maybe with enough gold, the title of prince could be bought.
“But why would you share all of this wonderful treasure with me?”
Catches—like perfect girls turning out to be unattainable princesses—Aladdin was used to. Free treasure, he was not used to—and highly suspicious of.
“I need a young pair of legs and a strong back,” the old man said, tapping Aladdin’s legs as solicitously as a camel buyer. Aladdin squelched a shiver of fear. Was the man a sorcerer who meant to literally take Aladdin’s back and legs?
No, that was foolish, Aladdin told himself, shaking his head.
Right?
“Because the treasure is in a cave. In the desert,” the old man spat. “I’m…not quite as nimble as I used to be. I need you to go get it for me and bring it out. Now, do we have a deal?”
“Oh, sure,” Aladdin laughed. If it wasn’t for the existence of the rubies, he would have thought the old man was completely mad. “Except for one thing. The cave is out there and we’re in here.”
The old man cackled.
“Things aren’t always what they seem!”
He tapped a stone in the wall several times with his cane. It slid aside, slowly, grindingly, but somehow under its own power.
“So, I repeat,” the old man said as if enjoying the taste of every word. He put his hand out. “Do we have a deal?”
Aladdin hesitated. Perhaps the old man really was a sorcerer after all. Or an ancient, angry djinn.
But then again, treasure…
Aladdin squared his shoulders, set his jaw, and shook the old man’s hand.
After he crawled through the narrow space, Aladdin found himself in a pitch-black cave. Strange subterranean winds blew frigid one moment and searingly hot the next. The walls suddenly flickered with an evil red light, and a gust of hot air burned the side of Aladdin’s face.
Abu screamed and clutched Aladdin’s neck.
“The very blood of the earth comes up through here,” the old man explained, leading the way with his crabby shuffle. As they rounded a corner, they came upon the source of the flickering red light: a slowly bubbling pool of molten rock that burned hotter than the inside of a smithy’s kiln. “We are deep beneath the palace now, in the living stone upon which it was built.”
“I had no idea anything like this existed,” Aladdin said, full of wonder. And also full of ideas. Caves that led under the city and into the palace? That sounded like a very bad security hole. He wondered if they were anywhere near the vaults that were filled with royal gold.
“Nobody does. Nobody living, that is,” the old man cackled.
Aladdin again felt the stirrings of fright. But then, what would a ghoul want with treasure? This man was surely alive. And secretive. And insane. Perhaps it was all an act to protect his secrets. They went on.
The old man occasionally mumbled and muttered to himself and made squawking noises like a bird. Having conversations with the long dead, probably. Aladdin noted with interest how very few splits and turnoffs there were, and how smooth the corridors were. Now and then he flicked out his knife to scratch an outcropping or put an arrow on a wall when the old man wasn’t looking. Who knew when such a route would be useful again?
“Listen, boy,” the old man said as they went. “When you do go down into the Cave of Wonders, you must not touch anything except for an ugly old brass lamp you will find down there. There will be rooms of gold and chests of rubies and ancient treasures worth a thousand kingdoms. Touch nothing but the lamp, or you won’t come out of it alive.”
“Wait, I’m just supposed to walk by piles of gold?” Aladdin scoffed. “You promised me riches, Grandfather.”
“Imbecile,” the old man muttered, for just a moment sounding like someone younger. “The lamp gives one power…over the Cave of Wonders and its treasures. If you touch anything before it’s in hand, you will die. Bring the lamp to me and I assure you, you will get what you deserve.”