Like Bugra.
"You are looking for a lamp. An old, brass lamp that will appear out of place amid such treasure."
"So why is it there, then?" Aladdin asked before he could stop himself.
Gwandoya glared at him. "It has great personal value to me."
Aladdin didn't believe a word. He might be a street rat, but he'd been raised to be a merchant, who had to know the difference between truth and lies as much as he needed to be able to sort brass from gold. "So I find this old lamp of yours, and then what? Where's the wealth you said I'd find?" Aladdin asked.
Gwandoya lifted his chin proudly. "Bring the lamp to me, and I shall richly reward you."
Another lie. But Aladdin merely lowered his eyes and nodded.
Gwandoya pulled a ring from his finger and held it out. "You will need this. This magic ring will allow you to open doors in the city."
Aladdin took the ring gingerly. It seemed real enough, the blackened silver speaking of its great age. "Do I have to do the dancing and chanting thing like you did?"
"The inner doors are not as stubborn as the city gates. You will only need to command them to open, and they will."
No chanting, then.
"Do I get a torch?" Aladdin asked hopefully. The city gates really did look like the gates to the underworld.
"There are torches inside. They will allow you to reach the treasury," Gwandoya said. "Find the lamp, and it will light your way back to me."
The lamp that wasn't his, but Gwandoya wanted so badly he was willing to kill as many men as it took to bring the thing to him. But not enough to venture into the city himself.
"Right. Here I go, then," Aladdin said with forced cheer.
Wishing he'd stayed in his own city, where he belonged, Aladdin stepped into the dark.
EIGHT
"Isn't she beautiful?" Anahita marvelled as her eyes followed the falcon's flight.
"I've never seen a bird fly so fast," Maram admitted. She didn't want to watch the bird make a kill – she didn't share her half-sister's thirst for blood – but she couldn't deny she envied the bird her freedom of flight. Maram might travel the world with her father's ambassadors, but right now, she would give anything to fly, to be able to see everything in the city. Every man, too, with the sharp eyes to recognise the one she wanted. So she might ask Aladdin why he avoided her.
Maram sighed deeply. The one man she wanted, who apparently had no desire for her. Fate was laughing at her, she was certain of it.
Anahita bumped her hip against Maram's as she took a seat on Maram's stone perch. "Where does he live, your bathhouse lover?" Anahita asked, peering out over the city. "Only Merlin has a better view of the city than we do from this ridge. Why, I can see the bathhouse. Is he waiting there for you now?"
Maram shook her head. "There is no one waiting for me. Not there, not anywhere."
"Men the world over pine for you, just as you are doing now. Perhaps this lover of yours is simply fate turning the tables on you," Anahita said. She let out a piercing whistle, summoning her falcon back.
The bird circled, swooped, then circled again, not seeming to want to land yet.
Maram didn't blame her. Why would she give up the freedom of flight when she hadn't found what she sought?
But she wasn't a bird. She was a princess, a daughter of the Sultan, who did not search the alleyways of the city for a man who appeared to be a street rat, yet had higher morals than any royal prince she'd ever known. She would send a servant in search of him, Maram decided. Aladdin wasn't that common a name – she'd never known another man called that – and he lived alone with his mother, she thought he'd said. If Aladdin avoided her, his mother could not. She would send the servant with an invitation for Aladdin's mother to present herself at the palace. Maram would share a meal with the woman and ask her why Aladdin had not returned. His mother would know – mothers always did. Her own mother...Maram shut that thought down before it could fully flower in her mind. Her own mother knew nothing of her life now – such was the fate of a treasonous former Sultana.
"Oh, you stupid bird! Not another frog!" Anahita cried in dismay as the bird dived into a well.
Maram couldn't suppress a smile. Evidently she wasn't the only one who loved what she shouldn't.
NINE
For the first time, Aladdin found Gwandoya had not lied. Inside the door sat a stack of torches. He seized one and carried it back to what remained of Gwandoya's fire. It was enough to light the torch, which was all Aladdin needed. He stepped back inside the cave and set off down the tunnel into the depths.
After several turns, Aladdin found himself at a crossroads of sorts, with two paths to choose from. Gwandoya and the doorway were out of sight, so there was no one he could ask for directions. Swearing, Aladdin peered down both tunnels, but neither dusty stone passage seemed more inviting than the other.
This cave ran deeper than he'd thought. Deep enough for a man to get lost in, maybe. Was that how Bugra had died? Aladdin moistened his suddenly dry mouth. Other men might have died here, but he would not. He backtracked to where he found another unlit torch in a bracket on the wall, and lit that, too, before he headed down the right hand passage. Any torch he saw, he lit, so he'd know he'd passed this way before.
Pretty soon, the warm light of all the torches behind him made Aladdin comfortable enough to start looking around him, at what wasn't a cave at all. The tunnels had been carved by tools, not nature, and he could see the marks of axes where they'd been opened out. Some tunnels came to dead ends that looked more like rooms where people had lived and worked. But where were the people?
They'd left tools and clothing behind, even bedding, but everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. As though the people who lived here had left in a hurry, intending to return, but they had not. What had driven them out, and what had prevented them from returning? Aladdin wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to either question.
Especially not if the answer was somewhere in the city with him. Someone or something had killed Bugra, and Aladdin had no desire to be next.
He entered, then backed out of a prayer room. Perhaps he should take a moment and pray, he thought, then decided not to bother. Who knew which direction to face, anyway, so deep underground? No one would hear his prayer from here.
The next corridor ended in a dead end, blocked off by a boulder that looked like a smaller version of the one at the entrance. A door, Aladdin guessed, eyeing it. "Please open?" he suggested.
The round stone rolled smoothly aside, revealing a new passage. Aladdin breathed a sigh of relief, and stepped through.