Aladdin clasps a hand over his mouth, holding him in a headlock. “Easy, old man. Gods, we’re not going to murder you.”
I let go of him and let out a long breath. The man ceases struggling and glares hard at me.
“All right, listen up,” Aladdin says. “See, this is all part of a game. A sort of treasure hunt. It was all Prince Darian’s idea, I might add. Between you and me”—he drops his voice to a whisper—“I think he’s a bit insane. But if you want to complain, talk to him. I’m sure he’d be reasonable about it. I’m going to let you go now. Don’t yell, or I might have to gag you and let you sit here till dark.”
Slowly he releases the man, who whirls angrily but doesn’t shout out. He straightens his hat and coat, looking from Aladdin to me.
“I never . . . Young people these days!”
“Yes, we’re a rotten lot,” agrees Aladdin. “Go on, now. If you run into Darian, be sure to give him a piece of your mind.”
The man hurries off with many backward glances, his face still red. Then Aladdin lets out a heavy sigh and rubs his face.
“I got the pipe,” I say, holding it up.
He stares for a minute, blinking, and then bursts into laughter. A few curious deer stick their heads through the shrubs to see what the racket is. Aladdin doubles over, laughing loud enough to startle birds from the trees overhead, and after a moment, I start laughing too. I haven’t laughed this hard in a long, long while, and it feels wonderful. We sit on the grass and laugh until our faces are red and we’re out of breath.
“You are the worst thief I have ever seen,” declares Aladdin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I got it, didn’t I?”
“My grandmother could pick pockets better than that! Though that’s not quite fair; my grandmother was the best pickpocket in Parthenia. She taught me all her tricks. Drove my mother crazy.”
Taking advantage of the private spot, I shift into a tiger and roll on the grass, groaning with pleasure. The few deer remaining panic at the sight and dash off.
Aladdin lies beside me, his hands flung wide, eyes closed, and face turned to the sun. The sky is brilliantly blue, and the grass lush and deep. I stretch out, relishing the cool dirt under my claws. Then, with a sigh, I shift back into a girl and sink into the grass.
“If you had a wish to spend,” says Aladdin suddenly, “what would you do with it?”
My eyes are half shut, my thoughts slow and lazy. “Spend a day in Ashori, eating grapes.” I don’t add that I’d also be free, without a lamp or a master in sight, staying as long as I pleased and answering to no one.
He rolls on his side, head propped on his hand. “Really? Grapes? You could wish for anything—but you’d wish for grapes?”
“I take it you’ve never had an Ashori grape.” I shut my eyes and imagine it. “They’re sweet and plump and perfectly crisp . . . the last Lampholder used to order them by the shipload.”
“Huh.” He pulls up a small white daisy that’s sprouted in the grass. “I must have one of these grapes.”
I open one eye. “Is that a wish?”
He makes a face and tosses the flower at me. It lands on my cheek, and I pick it up and twirl it between my fingers. I could lie out here all day, not moving an inch, feeling the sun above and the grass below. With a contented sigh, I stretch my arms wide, raking the grass with my fingers—and find myself brushing Aladdin’s hand with my own. I pull it away quickly, my cheeks warming. He laughs a little.
“Sometimes,” he says, “I forget you’re supposed to be four thousand years old. You act as shy as a girl of sixteen.”
“I do not!” I sit up and glare at him.
He grins and shrugs, sliding his hands under his head. There are bits of grass stuck in his hair, and after a moment’s hesitation, I reach over and flick them away.
Aladdin watches me silently, his throat bobbing as he swallows. I drop my gaze.
He pulls out the pipe I stole and sticks it between his teeth.
“What do you think?” he asks around the stem. “Do I look noble?”
I snatch it away, and his teeth close with a clack. “Don’t you know that will kill you?”
He stares at me a minute, a mischievous light coming into his eyes. Then suddenly he lunges at me.
“Give it back!”
“It’s mine! I stole it!”
“I saved you from getting flogged!”
He makes a grab for the pipe, and I roll aside, holding it out of his reach. With a wicked laugh, he tickles my side, and I drop the pipe as I hasten to shove him away.
Aladdin picks up the pipe and brandishes it triumphantly, while I lie in the grass and laugh.
“Who knew jinn were ticklish?” He sits cross-legged and taps the pipe on his knee. “I should tell Caspida. I’ve discovered the jinn’s greatest weakness! Sure, they hate iron, but wave a feather on a stick and they’ll run to the other side of the world!”
“That was a dishonorable move, thief.”
“As if I had any honor to begin to with.”