Three Wishes: Cairo (8 page)

“We’re lost,” said Ameerah. It had been four days since they had ridden from the safety of the kingdom in search of Khayri. As Alchemy had predicted, Khayri’s three closest friends had told no one of their suspicions because they themselves still understood very little about the events surrounding the wedding. They slowed to a stop to rest the horses and allowed them to drink from a small stream that bordered the path they had been traveling.

“This is not right,” said Atiene. “As far as I can tell, we’ve been lost since we left. We’ve all traveled this far from our home before, yet nothing looks familiar. I know that I should recognize this terrain, yet nothing about this feels the same.”

“This was Alchemy. If he is indeed pulling the strings, then we can assume that we’re on a fruitless mission,” said Ameerah with more of the frustration she felt creeping into her voice. “I think we should cease this search until we gather more facts. Otherwise, we could be riding in circles forever and never know it. In this case, we need more planning and less action.”

“Let’s stop for the night and make camp,” said Rorgue as he dismounted his horse. He was suffering the most of the three. Men of action don’t do well against a foe that they can’t see, touch or kill. He would rather fight a battle against one hundred men than go up against an enemy cloaked in magic. When he couldn’t believe his eyes anymore, his biggest strength was negated. He hated uncertainty and at this point, all three were feeling lost. Rorgue would need to depend on the suggestions of Atiene and Ameerah, as he realized that they were more cerebral and better suited to do battle with the wispy tendrils of magic. He, on the other hand, just wanted to punch something.

They were also outside the protection of the kingdom. On their own and alone in the world, all three were also feeling exposed. There were neighboring kingdoms that were not considered friendly. Most would not raise a hand against emissaries from Transjordan, but the world was standing on end now. From what they could tell, there was no Transjordan, there was no king and there were no rules that made sense. All they knew was that now there was confusion and frustration. Could they even return home or was there was no home to return to?  At this point, Rorgue would settle for a good old battle with a familiar foe, if nothing else but to help reset his scrambled sense of where they currently were.

The next morning, they decided to head due west at sunrise and continue in that direction until they came across something they recognized. It wasn’t long until they were engulfed by desert terrain and sweltering heat. The three staggered onward, resting their horses when they encountered limited shade and water along the way. They camped and nearly froze during the night huddled in clothing and coverings never made for the freezing depths of the desert evenings. But it didn’t take long for them to realize that due west would be a fruitless direction and that they would likely die if they didn’t head back. Exhaustion set in on their last night as they huddled around the small fire they built to heat up their meager rations.

“Our horses will not live to see another day unless we head back. West was an unfortunate direction and we must now turn around,” said Ameerah. Atiene and Rorgue were both relieved to hear her say it. They would have never given up and would have followed her lead until their dying breaths, but it was obvious to all that they were getting nowhere.

“In the morning, we head toward the sun,” said Atiene as he stood face to face with Ameerah. “I for one will never give up. I owe Khayri my life a dozen times over and I would gladly trade mine to see him again.”

“As would I” said Rorgue as he gently placed his hand on Ameerah’s shoulder. “It will take more than a little magic to bring down Khayri. I saw him fight eleven men one time; each one as shocked as he was when he walked away the victor.”

The friends all shared a laugh as their own quiet private memories of Khayri bubbled to the surface. But after that burst of good nature, the three spent the rest of the evening staring into the fading fire with varying degrees of grief for their missing friend.

All three slept fitfully and briefly until the sun began to peek over the far horizon. They all agreed that an early start would be the best idea and they set off as close to dawn as possible. There was little time to waste, as there was very little useful light that wasn’t shortly followed by extreme heat.

The torturous mission continued throughout the next several days. Each day, weariness seemed to set in earlier and even the thought of reaching the green and fertile lands they had left behind recently didn’t seem to lift their spirits. At this point, not one of the three was even certain they were headed in the right direction.

As the trio soldiered on more by instinct than actual awareness, eventually Atiene noticed the change. “Do you hear that?” he shouted a little louder than he had to.

“What?” said Ameerah dryly; as these were the first words she had spoken all day.

“I hear the horses’ hooves hitting the ground again. The sod is firming up. We’re closing in on solid ground again!”

“I, for one, will be happy to remove any and all sand that has found its way into just about every gully, crevice and curve on my body” choked Rorgue.

“Don’t know who I pity more” said Ameerah, “the sand or you.”

Her comments elicited tired smiles from companions who were simply too exhausted to laugh.

“Is that a lion?”

In the distance, a painted lion lay sleeping in the dessert. Atiene rubbed his eyes a few times just to verify that what he was seeing was real. As they got closer and closer, they realized that they were witnessing a beautiful sculpture of a lion poised in a resting pose. It took their breath away.

Not only were they seeing the most amazing structure they had ever laid their eyes on, but also they were gazing upon hundreds of people. These people were just going through their daily rituals and not even giving a second thought to the brilliant creation that towered above them. They just went about their business as if it didn’t even exist.

Adorned in solid gold trim that was both opulent and mesmerizing, this monument was as large as the castle from their own kingdom. Atiene and Rorgue stood and stared with mouths agape at the wonder of it all. But Ameerah was smiling. Atiene eventually dropped his eyes and noticed that Ameerah was having a different reaction than both he and Rorgue. His poke prodded Rorgue out of his trance.

“What?” Rorgue bristled. But then he too caught Ameerah’s reaction.

“Why are you smiling Meer?”

Her eyes never wavered.

“I know when we are,” she continued her smile.

“You know
when
we are?” Rorgue was puzzled. “Are you seeing the big lion that we’re seeing?”

“I think I know
when
we are, I know where we are and now I have a pretty good idea just what we need to do” she replied.

Both continued to stare at their feminine companion. Finally Rorgue blurted out, “So, would you like to share with the rest of us? How do you know all of this?”

Ameerah’s eyes never wavered from the Sphinx.

“Because we have a history.”

After what seemed like an eternity of falling, the lamp eventually made its way into the brush where it now rested. Over the first year, the winds had blown sand and grass that had completely covered it. The passing of even more time had buried the lamp further down in the pliant soil. Rather than a lamp being a symbol of light in the darkness, it had become a small tomb for Prince Khayri.

Almost forty years inside the lamp had born similar results. The young and hopeful prince had been eroded slowly over time to a shell-like genie apparition. And while he struggled mightily to maintain his sanity and his sense of being, time had done its damage to his humanity.

He was slowly losing his grip on his hope. The Genie battled to hold onto his memory by repeating events from his life over and over. But that repetition faded as months turned into years and then into decades. It had been so long since he’d had meaningful conversation with any other person that he had stopped talking, even to himself and descended into a silent and mundane existence.

With no physical body to maintain, he didn’t really have to worry about losing his athletic build or his balance and other abilities, because he knew that none of that mattered anymore. He wasn't entirely without memories. He remembered that at one time, he was highly regarded by many and that his life had been stolen by Alchemy. That fire still burned brightly enough to never be extinguished. Two flames are hard to extinguish: the flames of love and the flames of revenge.

Of course his love for Ameerah would never die. His heart still ached for her smile. But he could no longer muster up the same heat and anger that losing her had brought forth. She was a pleasant memory that drifted with the tide a little further from him every day. He remembered scattered bits and pieces of a life that was slowly caving in on its own dead carcass. The passage of time was cruel. Even though he remembered their time together and her incredible spirit, he was starting to have trouble remembering her face.

His mental state had changed dramatically over the years. Like the death of a loved one, he had experienced various stages of grief. After the initial shock of his situation had worn off, the warrior in him had no time for denial. Men of action do not waste effort on hand-wringing and self-pity. His first reaction to his situation was good old-fashioned anger and violence. When he quickly determined that there was no real way to force his way out of this cage he was in, he tried bargaining. He spent long days screaming until he had no voice. At first he screamed for Alchemy to free him. Eventually the gods became his favorite subjects for blame. How could they have allowed this betrayal to happen? But that didn’t seem to help and didn’t last very long. Eventually, he was forced to accept a situation where he had absolutely no control over his fate. Revenge fueled the fire that drove him out of bed at sunrise each day. His thoughts of inflicting bodily harm on Alchemy kept the flame and desire to live burning in the pit of his stomach.

With so little to do and so much time to do it in, he had read the books from Alchemy from cover to cover hundreds of times. He was quite familiar with the rules that outlined his required behavior as a Genie of the Lamp. He knew that, once freed from the confines of this prison, he would be forced to live through the whims of others.

But for some reason, Alchemy had left a slight opening in this otherwise well-constructed prison. The Genie could regain his freedom if one of the masters of the lamp spent one wish for the Genie’s freedom. To the Genie, this didn't necessarily mean he had to be a helpless participant. If he could find one soul willing to give up a wish for his freedom, he could begin charting the course of his own future, free from the bonds of the curse. Once he was granted freedom, he would reassemble the various broken pieces of his life and right the wrongs brought on him by the wizard who had betrayed him.

Now, there was one task he performed daily; one ritual that still remained from his early days in captivity. He again brought forth from his pocket, a ripped and tattered parchment from one of the books. Even though he had memorized these words long ago, he still read from the faded pages aloud:

“3 wishes granted.

No wish for the death of another.

No wish for love where love doesn’t currently exist.

No wish for additional wishes.

No wishes for reanimation of dead tissue.

No wishes without limitations.

Only a wish from the keeper of the lamp can free the genie.”

He was a genie. That was one point of clarity in an otherwise muddled situation. What being a genie entailed was a bit foggy at this point. He obviously knew the rules of being a genie. That much he had memorized. But from there, his situation was murky. He could plan all day long for some grand escape, but staring at the same oddly-shaped room for days on end really made that whole effort seem rather silly.

Even though he presumed that he now held powers beyond his wildest dreams, he was helpless to use them until someone freed him from this tomb. He was like a starving man separated from a lavish buffet by a glass wall. He could imagine the possibilities without the ability to smell or taste the feast of freedom.

At least for now, he was immortal. The battle waited, but yet could not begin without help from another.

Revenge would come. That hope burned brighter than any flame.

And as he had every day, he again repeated the last line of the verse,

“
Only a wish from the keeper of the lamp can free the genie. . .”

“Thief!”

Well, that certainly wasn’t the first time he’d heard those words.

His flight instinct kicked in and he began running (another thing he was really good at) in a direction opposite the yelling. An innocent man would have frozen and waited for more details in an effort to analyze the situation. But no such decision from Aladdin was necessary. He knew that any unkind accusations leveled in his direction were probably true. He didn't even give a thought as to what event this was related to. He just knew it was meant for him and related to something he had done at some time in the past. He also always assumed that ‘fast’ was the speed and ‘away from the yelling’ was the course he should follow.

Others walked through town and saw small shops, dirt roads, street vendors, townspeople, livestock and other things that made up any village. Aladdin saw routes of escape. His brain worked incredibly fast and that on-the-fly thinking had saved him from prison, loss of limb and things he chose never to contemplate.

Aladdin was a thief, but with one important distinction: he was an honorable thief. He didn’t believe in stealing from people of his own class and social standing. When he did steal, he was stealing from those who could afford it and giving most of the bounty to those who couldn’t. Hard times called for drastic measures and, after the death of his parents, Aladdin had few viable options that were available to him.

He didn't ask for his lot in life, but he was dealing with it in the best way he could. No one chooses to be alone. But he also wouldn’t let his bad luck define him. Never once did he complain about his situation or dwell in despair or self-pity. He was too busy living his life. Even at a young age, this teenager understood that time on earth was short and meant for living.

Life had not been so kind since the day his teacher had reluctantly called him out of the room to tell him that both of his parents had been killed. They had just been out walking along the rain-swelled banks of the river when the young boy’s mother had accidentally slipped and fallen into the water. She was instantly pulled under and Aladdin’s father had followed and was trying to save her. Both had been found much later. It was the worst day of his life. He didn’t remember much about their deaths, but could still feel that empty place in his chest that ached from the loneliness. It was a hollow feeling that could not be filled with even the deepest breaths.

Two days later, he found himself living in an orphanage, surrounded by strangers who meant well, but who had a strict set of rules which Aladdin didn’t take well to. He had been given two meals a day and a warm bed, but he was angry and acting out for no real reason. That didn’t mix well with the regimented lifestyle that was being forced on him by his keepers. He cried every night and decided pretty quickly that a safe and orderly life wasn’t the life he wanted.

Two weeks he lasted in that place. His time there just made him sad, slow and fidgety. When he could no longer bear it, he left in the middle of the night and never really looked back. As he grew older, he craved action and adventure (perhaps even a little romance to boot) and knew that life with rules would be the safe course to choose, but would likely drive him mad with boredom.

He had but two friends in the world: Bashir, a local baker who made the best stale bread on the planet, and his dog, Darius. Bashir had known Aladdin's father and upon his parents' death, had made the boy aware that there was always food and a small room above the bakery where he could stay. But he was also aware that Aladdin was independent, so he respected the young man's wishes and didn't interfere in his life. At first, he worried because Aladdin didn't share much about how he was surviving, but each morning, he came for breakfast and looked fit and well-fed, so Bashir didn't ask. Even when he heard rumors about a young thief who was preying on the upper crust of society, he had his suspicions, but didn’t mention it to Aladdin. For now, he was just happy that the boy looked content. After what he had been through, Bashir didn't feel it was his place to ask.

A few weeks ago, Bashir again became worried about Aladdin when he discovered that he was no longer sleeping in the room above the bakery. When he asked Aladdin about the change in his normal routine, he simply said, “My friend, I have had free use of your property with no strings attached. I feel that the time has come to move on. I am happy to share with you that I now live in a home with greater protection than even the Sultan himself.” Bashir also noticed the dog now attached faithfully by the young man's side each and every morning at breakfast. Bashir was happy that Aladdin had found a companion and ceased worrying about him. He enjoyed their daily visits and the older man couldn't help but imagine the exciting life the young man had made for himself. Aladdin seemed so much older now. His tales were interesting and Bashir had reached the point in his life where his stories from his past were far more interesting than his stories of the present. So he was very focused on his young friend’s adventures because it made him feel young again.

Of course Aladdin had ever so slightly exaggerated his new living situation, but he did feel better that he was now making his own way in the world.

His shelter and his dog became part of his life on the very same day. He had been sitting at the edge of the forest, not far from the palace, counting the day's spoils, when he heard the faint cries of distress. Aladdin was many things, but a coward was not one of them. Without a second thought, he sprinted headlong into the dense entryway of the forest and began heading in the direction of the sounds he heard. He wasn't even really aware what he was hearing. Was this a child? With no real fear for his own safety, he trudged onward through the dense green muck. It really hadn't occurred to him that he had plunged head-on into a place thought to be very scary by most. It was sort of an unspoken rule that most people never ventured into the forest at all; let alone this deeply. He soon realized that the covering was so dense here that he could barely see, yet it was late afternoon on a summer day. This thought might have paralyzed other men, but Aladdin was still focused on the persistent whining he heard. But now it seemed to be fading. Rather than ponder his precarious situation, he picked up his pace, deftly dodging obstacles and continuing an almost blind search.

When he finally found the source of the alarm, it turned out to be a rather large, rather natty looking dog. When he finally came face to face with the poor mutt, he realized that the whimpering he had heard was not from fear but from frustration. Somehow, this poor animal had a rope around his neck that had gotten caught in the fork of a low-lying tree. He was now strangling himself in an attempt to try and eat some sort of disgusting pile of something that only a dog could love. If Aladdin didn’t know better, he could have sworn that this animal had been tied here.

“Well, you're in quite a predicament,” smiled Aladdin.

A low growl told him that not only was the creature 'not' helpless, but that it was not meek either. As Aladdin reached down to pet the animal and soothe him, he was quickly informed by a quick and painful nip on the hand that his trust needed to be earned and not just assumed.

“Hey, I'm trying to help you!”

Another growl.

“Fine, you seem to have things well in hand here. I'll just make my way back to town and you can continue sitting here looking stupid. Goodbye my friend. Enjoy your lunch!”

Aladdin left the poor creature growling and looking quite puzzled.

As he made his way back in the direction he had entered, or at least the direction he thought he had entered. He heard the growling again turn to whimpering. He stopped, smiled and turned back toward the stubborn canine.

As he approached, he again heard the unsure growling return.

“Are you serious? Do you want me to save you or are you planning on becoming a permanent fixture in that tree? You can have it any way you want, but this is the last time I offer.” He again made his way toward the animal. This time, as he got closer, the dog's ears perked up and he began to sniff the air.

“What is it?” Aladdin asked.

A simple bark and the dog stared greedily at Aladdin's pants pocket.

“What? I don't have anything.” But as he patted his right pocket, he remembered a small amount of bread he had received from Bashir earlier in the day. He retrieved it slowly and looked at the dog. “So this is what you wanted?” He offered it on a flattened palm so as to maintain all of his fingers. But the dog very gently took the morsel of bread and the swallowed it hungrily. Aladdin then patted his head and carefully untangled the mutt from the confines of the tree.

Since that day, they had never been apart. He had decided on the name Darius, because it was the name of a great king. Aladdin reasoned that this animal thought himself to be a king, so he named him after one. Aladdin would bring home the trappings of the day and always feed Darius first. Then he would begin on his portion; soon to be interrupted by the
royal stare
, which told him that his portion should again be divided so that Darius could share again. Aladdin couldn't resist those eyes, so Darius got his way.

By rescuing the dog, he had made a wonderful and important discovery. Once you waded through the incredibly dense entry to the woods, it was actually a fairly interesting area. For someone whose mind was always plotting an escape, this dark, rich labyrinth of colors and textures provided an excellent opportunity. Not only was it much cooler than the areas of town he'd been living in, but it was also completely devoid of other living beings; except, of course for his new friend.

Soon, he found himself immersed in a secret plan to create a lair here where he could rest, live in peace, and most importantly, run away when he needed to. Usually in the midst of being chased, he'd make the turn running alongside the wall of the palace and then scoot right into the woods. The much slower guards always assumed a left hand turn behind the palace. It didn't hurt his chances that most folks thought that the forest was haunted as well. Because by this point, most of the chasers were running out of steam, so it never even crossed their minds to shift to the right and enter an area that scared the lot of them.

The secret lair was born.

He'd spent several weeks clearing an area and created a fairly workmanlike residence. He'd fashioned a primitive chimney out of river rocks and sandy mud and even laid a nice wooden floor. Soon, he was camping on the base of his home, even though he hadn't yet built walls. There was no real winter to speak of, but once the rains came in fall, he would need a well-crafted roof over his head. He made a million mistakes, but slowly and surely, he had actually created his first project; a small hut with heat, protection from the weather and everything he and Darius needed to live quite comfortably. And in a final touch, he let some of the villagers unknowingly contribute some very comfortable furnishings that added just the right touch. It was amazing how generous some of these wealthy people were when they didn't know they were contributing.

Aladdin was also quite proud of the homestead he'd created. Protected as well as the palace by trees that had been in place for hundreds of years, he had cleared enough room to give his new plot of land ample sunlight. He was far enough away from the palace that he never felt like he had to sneak around and his dog could bark all day and never be heard. The forest was wonderful for berries and fresh game; so much so that Aladdin had begun to curtail his thievery. Today's romp was simply an exercise to keep his reflexes up to speed.

Time in his own home changed him. Now, rather than dreaming of the exciting life of a heroic thief, Aladdin found his thoughts turning to someday marrying the girl of his dreams and settling down in a nice home with children. He felt no envy living in the shadow of a lavish palace that most could only dream of. Instead, he thought, “
My time will come
.” He hadn't given much thought to what career he would choose, but he did rather like the vision of a family man and not one of a criminal who was always sleeping with one eye open.

Once he had shelter, he began the process of protecting his residence. He had no real fear that anyone would stumble upon his home. He knew that the townspeople were mostly content with whatever lot they had in life and that they did very little exploring of the world outside their own familiar existence. He had been a criminal, but as that facet of his life receded, he was glad that he had never been caught and identified. He could still walk about town in relative anonymity. But that didn't stop Aladdin from crafting intricate secret pathways that gave him several entrances and exits should he ever need them. He enjoyed the process of imagining an attack and the many ways he would lead his trackers astray.

He planned situations and reactions to them. He literally crafted dozens of plans that would be triggered by some
dreamed up
situation. Each move he created was a counter-move to some invisible foe or unseen circumstance. Planning was his gift. Every situation had an exit strategy. That exit strategy was currently in use as he ran on; away from someone for something.

But today, none of the planning in the world could have prepared him for the events about to unfold.