Magical Mechanications (9 page)

“Utter one more word, boy, and I will remove your tongue. Understand?”

Aladdin nodded. He had heard threats before; he knew this was not empty intimidation. What had been spoken was a promise.

He held his gaze with Aladdin for a moment, sniffed, and then returned his gaze back to the horizon. They were atop one of the highest dunes of the desert, and with the moon still full and brilliant in the sky, sand stretched in every direction.

“It must be here,” Jaha muttered.

They descended into a valley of sand dunes, the ever-changing mountains on either side of them threatening to block out the moon. Jaha reached into his satchel and produced three polished spheres. He held them in a gloved palm and brought the torch closer to them. The spheres suddenly flashed, and that was when Jaha tossed them up into the air.

Aladdin watched the orbs rocket upward, accompanied by a shrill, high-pitched whistle. When the piercing sound faded off, the patch of night above their heads erupted into green flame. The darkness pulled back like a curtain, and now there were details in the dunes and valley that he could clearly see.

“Quickly, boy,” Jaha commanded, pointing in the direction opposite of his own. “You are looking for a large, brass ring—perhaps the size of your chest. We only have moments.” His next words resembled the growl of a wild beast. “Do not fail me!”

Aladdin hurriedly looked about, as the emerald luminance around him was already beginning to dwindle.  He dug his fingertips in the sand just deep enough to allow him to move through it easily. The valley was long and wider than this light would allow for a proper search. He did not want to state the obvious fact that was now tearing away at his resolve; they were in a desert, in a valley created by sand dunes. Was Jaha expecting these same dunes to be here after the next sandstorm? Who is to say if this fleeting vista was here a month ago, or two?

Then his hand brushed something. It was not a dead animal, nor was it rock. His hand had connected to something large and metallic.

He looked up, and just visible in the shadows and dimming green light was his uncle.

“Your father was one of three children. He had two sisters,”
his mother had told him in their final embrace.
“There was never any mention of a brother.”

“Uncle!” he called out as his hands began to dig.

The more the curve of the brass ring came into view, the more his mother’s words echoed in his ears. Yes, it was true that he had hardly been the most honorable of subjects to the Sultan, but his mother never discouraged his resourcefulness in the streets. She, too, nurtured an instinct based on survival, and perhaps she knew what Aladdin could accomplish with the right opportunity.

He saw it in her eyes when they said goodbye to one another.
You will find your destiny as he promises but not in the fashion that you may imagine.

“Dig faster, boy!” Jaha snapped at him.

Aladdin did not bother to look up at his false uncle. The façade was beginning to slip. His mother must have suspected there was a method to Jaha, and that Aladdin possessed the means to outwit whatever nefarious intention the man had in store for him.

If only Aladdin were as confident.

His fingers found the base of the ring, and now Aladdin pushed aside the sand until he found an edge. His only light was the moon, but even that was about to disappear. Their torch also seemed to be dwindling.

Another edge. Aladdin dug faster.

Finally, standing in what seemed to be an ankle-deep hole, Aladdin looked across the center of a hatch matching the width and breath of a small cart. He could move the brass ring back and forth, but with great effort. For this hatch to move, they would need a contraption akin to the locoloaders that had provided him a quick escape on the docks earlier that morning.

“So there you are,” Jaha muttered. “Move aside, boy,” he said, removing his satchel. “This is where my talents are needed.”

Jaha drove the torch into the sand, dug into his bag, and removed four fist-sized spheres. Aladdin squinted in the dim light to watch what Jaha did next. The magician looked at every corner of the massive hatch and then turned a small dial in each of the spheres. He knelt at the corner just by his feet and—
CLANG!
The sphere was impaled on the sharp point of the hatch. Aladdin jumped as—
CLANG!—
Jaha placed a second at the far corner. The man sprinted to the third corner of the hatch—
CLANG!

As Jaha ran for the fourth and final corner, Aladdin heard a soft, constant
tick-tick-tick-tick
coming from the spheres
…

If Jaha had told him to run, Aladdin missed it as he only heard his feet thumping hard against the dunes. He kept Jaha in front of him, the flutter of robes and feel of sand occasionally grazing his skin.

Suddenly the darkness disappeared, and Aladdin was picked up and tossed into Jaha. He felt them both strike sand but never heard their impact on account of the roar coming from behind them.

“Get
off
me, whelp!” Jaha growled, shoving his elbow into the boy’s side.

Aladdin rolled back into the sand, but it was not his hard impact against the dunes that stole his breath; it was the incredible sight that bathed the desert in an amazing golden light.

The hatch now cut a dark square in the dunes, but it was disappearing from sight as sand knocked loose was now gradually covering it. Slips of the desert appeared as shimmering veils against a bright yellow light coming from the maw in the valley floor. Aladdin pulled himself up to his feet and joined Jaha at the lip of the opening. The longer they stood there, the brighter the light became. Perhaps it was the removal of the hatch, or the intake of air this chamber now suddenly received, but firelight continued to illuminate the treasure trove before them. Gold. Gems. This was not a king’s ransom. This was the ransom of an empire. A dynasty.

Aladdin’s reverie was shaken away as Jaha grabbed him by the nape of his neck and spun him around. In the glow of the eternal riches stretching into an unseen horizon beneath them, the magician appeared like a malevolent spirit threatening to hold Aladdin accountable for his crimes in the streets.

“You have done exceedingly well,” Jaha spoke, his voice now seeming as sweet as honey from the kitchens of the Sultan himself, “but now we have arrived to your first true test under my care.”

Aladdin looked back at the pit and then back to the great shadow looking over him.

“I cannot descend into the cave we have discovered. Agility and age has caught up with me, and such a pursuit as what awaits us in this treasure trove is too much for me.” Aladdin flinched as Jaha’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “You must go down into the pit we have unearthed together and follow the cobblestone path within.” His grip tightened. “Listen to me carefully, boy—once inside, you will see vessels everywhere overflowing with gold, silver, and the most flawless jewels you would ever see.  Do not meddle with them, for if you do death will fall upon you instantly.”

“So if I cannot help myself to the treasure here, why am I following this path?” Aladdin spoke. It was a relief to know he had not lost his voice completely.

“You are looking for a lamp.”

Aladdin blinked. “A lamp?”

“Yes, a simple brass lamp.”

He looked behind his uncle again, taking note of what was just visible—rubies, gold, sapphires, emeralds…

He couldn’t help but question, “You’re serious?”

Jaha gave a nod and then brought Aladdin to the lip of the pit. “This brass lamp may be alight when you find it. Take the lamp down, put it out, keep it close, and bring it to me.” He then gave Aladdin’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Be brave, be bold, and we shall both be rich all our lives.”

The glow of what Aladdin could see now as treasure stretching in all directions bathed them both in amber light. Just within sight at the bottom of the pit was a clearing—a round pattern of cobblestones, completely clean of treasure.

Aladdin turned back to where they had landed and grabbed his strange pack. “I am ready, uncle.”

Four

The groans and grunts from thirty feet above him were sweet music to Aladdin’s ears. If he had not been wearing his pack, there is a good possibility that he would be far lighter and easier to lower into this keep; but this uncle was a false uncle, so he did not mind giving him pain. When Aladdin finally came to the center clearing, he looked around the massive vault.

Aladdin frowned and muttered, “Who does all this treasure belong to?”

“Boy!”

He looked up to see Jaha motioning impatiently from the pit’s lip. “Off with you. Remember—do not touch any of the riches around you unless you wish a speedy death!”

“Yes, uncle,” Aladdin said, shifting the pack on his back before walking down the path cutting through the vast stores of riches.

Just as Aladdin had observed from above, there were unimaginable treasures on either side of him. He paused at a fountain that was miraculously running with water. The liquid within its basin seemed to sparkle of its own accord. He could tell, just on by looking at it that it was the purest water he would have ever tasted.

Onward
, he reminded himself.

After a few more steps, he looked back; the opening where Jaha had lowered him through was now distant and out-of-sight. Aladdin had unknowingly entered some sort of atrium. Its transparent dome was covered with gold coins that reflected a circle of torches within.

Aladdin looked to the opposite end of this chamber and that was when he saw it: the brass lamp, displayed proudly on a simple pedestal. He quickened his pace; and the closer he came to the lamp, the more unimpressive Jaha’s desire became.

The item that did make him pause though was something completely different; a thing of beauty.

Much like the lamp Jaha wanted, the device Aladdin stared at was made of brass, but there was also an impressive wood inlay and ornate engravings in the firing mechanism and butt.  He reached for the device—but paused. His fingers itched to hold it, but the words of his uncle whispered in his ear.
Do not touch any of the riches around you, unless you wish a speedy death!

Such was the warning of his uncle. His
false
uncle.

His eyes took in the grappling hook device; truly, a work of art. Aladdin chewed his bottom lip—and then reached out to take up the device’s case. He held his breath and waited. His heart continued to beat. The air still smelt of incense. There were no pinches or searing sensations of agony. A deep breath. Then another.

Death had not come for him; at least, not now.

Aladdin removed the grappling hook and coil from its fine velvet case and felt the weight. It was…light; no more than a feather in his palm. The coil did not lend itself too much length, so perhaps the device was not used for scaling buildings. Perhaps a quick escape from window to window, or awning to awning.

He looked back to where Jaha waited for him. If this lamp was the intended bounty for him, perhaps Aladdin could keep this device for his own. Taking it apart to see how it worked would be a treasure in itself.

He fastened the grappling gun to his own sash. It would have been a real delight to have this on hand earlier in the morning.

With a last look at the other riches around him, all of which now felt suddenly obtainable, Aladdin continued to the end of the cobblestones. He stared at the lamp; the flame flickering happily from its tarnished neck.

Aladdin’s fingers itched again.
An opportunity,
he thought to himself.

He pointed his grappling device at the lamp. The first click of the trigger extended the teeth of the hook. The next position fired the coil and the teeth clamped on to the lamp’s handle. Aladdin threw the gun’s switch, and he heard the bow’s reel spin. The lamp flew off its pedestal, and its flame disappeared as it sailed through the air into Aladdin’s hand.

He held up the lamp, and then considered the grappling gun in his other hand. “No, I won’t take you apart right away,” he assured the device.

A soft tinkle of metal against metal took Aladdin’s attention from the gun to the piles of treasure around him. A gold piece tumbled down a column of coins, triggering other coins to fall. Through his sandals, Aladdin felt bricks shudder. His eyes widened as sand slowly sifted through the hairline cracks between the stones underfoot.

He knew the fear that was threatening to overtake him, but he also knew after many street chases and close calls with the Sultan’s guard how to control this fear. Aladdin bent to one knee, casting another glance at Jaha’s prize, before removing the shouldered pack he had been carrying all this while.

He cast aside the makeshift cover and flipped the latch that revealed his creation’s clockwork. His eyes darted over the many gears, cogs, struts, and springs, a bizarre concert of junk that no one else wanted, and of mechanisms that he obtained through less-than-honest measures and means. His hand slipped to the sash around his waist, and the gear from this morning’s adventure was still there, waiting for employment. His fingers made quick work of an empty bolt. As the soft rumble grew, the gear from his morning’s exploits was secured in its spindle, the latch locked, and his creation—a device born from stories told by his mother when he was younger—now centered securely on his back.