The Arabian Knight
This is the palace of Agrabah. The home of Sultan's since the prophet put down his foot and declare this to be the place of great blessing and prosperity. Agrabah was commerce, life and light to the Eastern land. The men of Harad were savage wanderers, their mûmakil caravans shaking the earth as they marched, worshiping dark gods. Calormen was an indistinguishable jewel in its own right of course, but their leader the Tisroc was....Strange. And their worship of Tash abominable. No, Agrabah laid secure in its own superiority.
The Cave of Wonders and their personal shadow guard helped in that regard.
One of which was currently waiting, suspended by one hand on a rope as his feet dangled in the open, with a sheer drop of fifty feet below waiting for him if his fingers slipped. Cautiously, and as safely as he could he swung up his legs and began the crawl upwards. No one observed him just yet, otherwise there would be a noise and then the swish of arrows. Perhaps he could actually pull this off and get-.
You're no hero street rat. Look at you, lying to yourself. This is not a noble heroic thing, this is revenge. Pure and simple.
He ignored the inner voice. This was not an easy thing to do, considering how often the voice helped him survive. It was born of cynicism and from the taste of ash in your meals till you could fill a fireplace. Beggars would have looked down upon him and did, it was every man for themselves in Agrabah.
A lesson for the world beyond it, to be sure.
He reached the top and dropped down with enough silence to make the average ninja sound like a brass band. The halls were dimly lit, the lamps of the palace reflecting its marble and sandstone. Like a shadow made sentient, he evaded them. Lights were his foe, he dodged them easily. When guards came, he ducked and hid, remaining very still before he'd move on. Finally, he came to the room he had been seeking. The one most heavily guarded due to the person within.
The bedchambers of the new Sultan and his bride, the former sultan's daughter.
He put a hand to his side, where the item he brought was tied firmly. Its reassuring feel made him feel more at ease as he peeked out cautiously from behind the pillar he had put himself. A gleam of blue, an unusual shade in the eastern lands glinted briefly at the sight of no guards. A changing? Or perhaps...At any rate, it was he hoped. So without further ado, he moved and defying fate, opened the door silently as he let himself in.
Sandalwood and perfume met his senses. In the midst of it all, a great bed laid with silken curtains drawn all around it as the shadowy figure crept silently over to the side. There, before him was the item in question. An innocuous lamp, sitting on the desk. The source of all his troubles and the bane of his life. The entire reason he was here.
Carefully, hands reached out and did something as he moved to the window....And then froze as a voice, cold and cruel spoke.
"Bravo. You were always a tenacious one....How your survived your wound is far beyond me, in addition to the desert. Yet here we stand."
The lights turned on and all was revealed.
On the one side, the Sorcerer. A smirking figure with a cobra head staff, its mouth gaping open in a permanent attack pose as its eyes glinted red from the embedded rubies. Stroking his chest as she leaned against the chair, the other was a young woman of silk and beauty, though her cruel smile dissuaded all else. Like flint they stared, yearning for entertainment and not caring who was crushed to gain it.
On the opposite, stood a man.
Garbed in red and black, the traditional uniform of the shadowy guard of Agrabah, the Hassassin order that wielded the dagger at the direction of the Sultan. He was a tall figure normally, his eyes the piercing blue which stood out against his features like sapphires upon black sand. In his hands, a lamp would be held...A replica of the one on the desk and the Sorcerer chuckled.
"Ala ad-Dinn. You surprise me. Did you not think with all my power, I could not sense you coming? That I could kill you with but a word or at the whim of my new sultana?"
She laughed merrily and Ala ad-Dinn pulled down his facemask. Rising to his feet, he stood defiant.
"I did."
"You understand such an act constitutes treason against your rightful sultan?"
"You are not my sultan...I know what you did. Your presence however, is a surprise."
He turned his gaze to the woman and the sorcerer chuckled, his hand gripping her own.
"Who do you believe gave me the information on the Cave? Of the tools that laid in wait and the treasure that would make Agrabah great?"
"My father underestimated me...He thought me weak and foolish, but my love here saw my potential. The treasure you brought will bring our realm peace and prosperity and above all...Security."
"At the expense of all others? A peace enforced by the sword sounds rather a contradiction in terms."
"Enough." The sultana clapped her hands and guards stepped out of hiding.
"You have impressed my lover and I in sneaking in, in addition to your own survival before. So we offer you this...Join us. You will be our agent, our enforcer. You will have power, third to my lover and I in all of Agrabah and the realms of the sea of sand. With the weapon you have brought, none shall dare raise their hand against us. Agree and it shall go well....Refuse? And here and now, you will die. What say you?"
Silence....Slowly, Ala ad-Dinn looked around him. He stared at the lamp in hand, seeing something in his grimy reflection before his jaw set and he shook his head.
"No."
"No?" The Sorcerer was politely puzzled. An idealistic assassin was a contradiction yet here it was before him. Were he a gardener and the grass rose up in protest over being mowed, he would have been less puzzled then he was now.
Ala ad-Dinn glared.
"I said no. I refuse your offer and all connected to it."
"But you will be killed, yet you defy me?"
"Yes. Because someone has to. Because someone has to defy you and all like you. Whatever happens to them afterwards."
They use whips on everyone and eventually put the whips inside peoples heads. They tell them this is so and then after a while, its all they'll ever know. But it could be better- It must better. Even if no one lives to hear this, someone has to stand up to them.
The sultana looked thoughtful, before shrugging. She was more pragmatic and clapped her hands.
"My love?"
The staff came up and the lamp was jerked from Ala ad-Dinn's hands and into those of the sultana. With a coy, seductive smile she sashayed and held up the lamp.
"You went through so much trouble to come here and replace it...Why don't we show you its power? Djinn of the Lamp....I am the Sultana of Agrabah! Hear my wish! I wish that this traitor before me will die in as slow an agony as you can devise in full view of all in Agrabah!"
She rubbed it, looking gleeful...And nothing happened.
There was an awkward pause. She frowned and rubbed it a bit more industriously.
Ala ad-Dinn looked innocent as he snagged the lamp on the desk and put his hand to the top. The Sorcerer, recovering from the shock rose up up swiftly in panic before pausing as Ala ad-Dinn said sharply.
"Not so fast! One spell, one man LOOKS at me wrong and I release this djinn. Right here, right now."
The sultana was white with fury and humiliation. Behind her, the guards and the Sorcerer looked more nervous and wary. Ala ad-Dinn was moving cautiously, hand on the lid as he made for the door.
"You didn't switch it at all!"
"Not much gets by you, doesn't it?"
Gloaters tended to let you live, they drew out the experience and life as a man puts off smoking a good cigar. So when in a jam, hope your captor is an evil man. A good one would just kill you where you stood. Seeing a lack of guards by the door or resistance in any heavy way tipped his instincts honed by the Hassassin order. His street rat base cunning did the rest. So instead of switching, he listened for the breathing and then kept his back to where they were most likely to be waiting as he held the fake lamp to him and bluffed with no cards in his hand...It worked.
And now the sultana looked as though she was longing to order his death, Djinn or no Djinn.
Which meant it was time to run.
As soon as he was out the door, he turned and bolted, the screams of the furious sultana following him through the halls as the call for the guard sounded.
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Outside the city walls, a mile away he looked back at Agrabah one last time. It was home growing up, but there was never any true affection there. The people who made it a home were long gone and here he was. In possession of the greatest weapon of the realms and the armies of Agrabah after his head. Slipping the lamp out of its back, he looked at it. How easy it would be, to rub and get a wish granted. Then one more and another and another and where would it end? And with a sigh, he thought about what he knew about Djinn...These were not toys. They were prisons. And every prison had a psychopath willing to inflict pain by reason of enduring it for years. What sort of mind would you have, locked up and doing that sort of thing for centuries on end? He didn't know.
And he would not be stupid enough to find out.
The lamp returned to its bag and Ala ad-Dinn climbed up onto his horse and pondered his next move. Hmmm....Calormen for sure. Agrabah would not dare move their armies into their territory. And after? Well....That was a story for another night.
He laughed and upon his horse, rode out across the dunes.
