Wish Aladdin Retold

Part 2

TWO

"I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams. The Sultan's daughters will mistake you for a prince, you will be so wealthy, and you may have your pick of them!" the well-dressed man boasted. "I am Gwandoya, and if you come to work for me, you will never go hungry again!"

"That's because everyone who does, dies," Berk muttered.

"Really?" Aladdin asked.

Berk shrugged. "Well, whoever does believe him enough to go work for him, never comes back."

Aladdin laughed. "Well, if I went to work for him, amassed a fortune and married some princess, I wouldn't come back, either. Who wants to sit around all day in an alley that stinks of piss?"

"That's because they stable the camels here. I worked there once. Evil things, camels. They bite and spit and stand on your feet until they break all the bones, but if you fight back, you're the one who gets thrown out," Bugra piped up. The boy was not yet a man, but Aladdin had been younger than Bugra when he started coming here looking for whatever work he could find.

"What about you, boy?" Gwandoya asked, pointing at Bugra. "What do you think of my offer?"

"What offer's that?" Bugra asked.

"Riches untold, and a princess for a bride!" Gwandoya said, his eyes lighting with unholy fire.

It was far too early in the morning for that sort of zealotry.

"Sounds better than shovelling camel s**t," Bugra said, stepping forward. "Will she be pretty?"

"Far more beauteous than any woman you have ever beheld!" Gwandoya promised.

"Hey, you don't want to do that," Aladdin said, reaching for Bugra's shoulder. "He might be taking you to sell you as a slave in the market."

Bugra shrugged off Aladdin's hand. "He promised me a princess, he did. And gold. You're just jealous you didn't accept first. When I'm a prince, I'll come back and throw you a copper coin so you can use the baths. Meanwhile, I'll have a palace of my own. You'll see." Bugra headed off with Gwandoya, leaving the other men staring in their wake.

"Think we'll ever see him again?" Aladdin asked.

"Nope," Berk drawled. Other men shook their heads.

"No one who goes with Gwandoya is ever seen again," an old man said, sadly.

"Should we tell his family where he's gone?" Aladdin ventured.

The old man shrugged. "No one to tell. His mother died last year. No one will miss him." He sighed. "Much like the rest of us. If we cannot work to keep our families fed, what use are we? We should all go with Gwandoya, for it is only a matter of time before we die unmourned by anyone who matters, for our families will starve long before us."

Some of the other men nodded in agreement, but none had the energy to argue. Perhaps none of them had anyone left to lose.

Except Aladdin, who rose from his crouch to stare down at the hopeless humanity who were the closest thing he had to friends. "Speak for yourself. My mother would mourn me. I'm not staying here, waiting to die with the rest of you. A caravan came into town last night. I heard it. I'll head down to the bazaar and see if anyone needs some extra hands to help unload the goods." Anything was better than wallowing in misery, waiting for work that would not come.

So he strode out of the alley and down the main street, toward the markets, but with no idea what to do. Such was the story of his life. His father had insisted he learn to read and write, and assess the quality of goods for when Aladdin followed in his father's footsteps as a merchant. But his father had died before Aladdin was old enough to take over the business, and his mother had sold all their goods just to survive, leaving them with nothing. Not even a trade Aladdin could follow to earn a living, for he was too old to apprentice and besides, no tradesman would take him without money to pay for his board. Money his mother no longer had.

So Aladdin walked through the market, seeing good silk and bad, brass polished to look like gold and gold so dirty it looked like cheap brass, food fit for the Sultan's table and stuff even a starving goat would turn its nose up at, but he could afford none of it. He was a merchant's son turned street rat, and his mother earned more money with her spinning than he did waiting all day to be hired for a day's labour that he was never offered.

He made it to the other end of the market without realising, only to find the street full of guards. "Make way for the princess!" one shouted, shoving a camel driver under the feet of his own lead beast.

Guards who would happily let a merchant be trampled wouldn't care if they killed some street rat, Aladdin knew, so he ducked into the nearest building – the city's oldest bathhouse. He ignored the sign that said the place was closed, and shouldered open the door. The shadows inside were cooler than the street, and he could hide here until the guards went past.

It wasn't as though a princess would enter a public bathhouse. The Sultan's precious daughters undoubtedly bathed in the confines of the harem, where no man could gaze upon their virgin beauty.

One of the guards must have seen him, though, because the door was thrown open. Aladdin hurried to find some deeper shadows to hide in. He found an alcove where the staff kept the towels, and ducked behind a towering pile of cloth. Surely no one would look for him there.

"You may go," a deep feminine voice said grandly. A voice Aladdin heard in his very soul.

Booted footsteps trooped outside at her command.

A princess who used a public bathhouse? This he had to see. Unable to resist, Aladdin peeped around the towels.

A veiled woman stood beside the pool while her female servants busied themselves fetching cloths and bowls of water to bathe their mistress before she immersed herself in the mineral bath.

One came into his alcove, and Aladdin had to dive behind the towels again, though he doubted the serving girl saw him in the dark. But if the princess was going to bathe, he'd best get out before someone saw him. He couldn't have picked a worse hiding place if he'd tried. Aladdin pressed his eye to a c***k in the shutters, hoping the streets would be clear enough to allow him to escape.

No such luck. The street was filled with the princess's guards, who would capture him the moment they saw him. Peeping at the princess, however unintentionally, carried a death penalty they wouldn't hesitate to carry out.

So he had to stay put, and wait the woman out. Once everyone left, then he could leave.

He settled on the tile floor. It was more comfortable than the alley where he'd spent more days than he could count.

"There. Leave me. I will summon you when I have need of you." The princess's voice echoed through the bathhouse, amplified by some sort of magic so that it seemed she spoke beside him.

Aladdin crept to the entrance of his alcove again, curious.

Four veiled women bowed, then left, and Aladdin's heart stopped as he beheld the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. The curve of her shoulders, enticing his eyes to travel down the crease of her spine to her peach-shaped bottom. His hands itched to touch her, to see if her skin was as soft as a peach. He'd eaten the fruit in his childhood, but it had been many years since he'd done more than look at them longingly in the market.

But never as longingly as he looked at this woman now. A princess he had no right to stare at, though he could not drag his eyes away as she descended the shallow steps into the pool. She ducked under the surface of the water, then came up and flipped onto her back, stealing Aladdin's breath as he caught sight of her breasts. Fruit from heaven, surely, so round and perfect. This princess's body was a priceless treasure none but the highest of men deserved to possess. Maybe not even then.

Aladdin buried his face in his hands. He deserved to die for what he'd seen. But if he did, he would die happy.

"Step out of the shadows, where I can see you," the princess commanded.

One of her attendants had stayed, Aladdin guessed. He ducked back behind his towels, where the woman would not see him.

"Do you really want me to summon my guards to drag you out? Come, now, man. You have seen your fill of me, so it is only fair that you let me at least see your face."

Aladdin risked a peek around the towels, to find the princess's dark eyes fixed on his hiding place.

She spread her arms wide. "I am unarmed, as you see. I will not harm you."

Just looking at her condemned him to death, but Aladdin knew he'd already sealed his fate. Fixing his gaze on her face, he took three tentative steps into the space before he fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the floor. "Your Highness, my humblest apologies for my disrespect. I sought to clear the road to let your entourage pass, only to find myself trapped in here. Why does one of the Sultan's daughters do such honour to a common bathhouse?"

Her laughter was low and musical, bouncing off the walls and straight into Aladdin's heart. He never reacted this way to anyone.

"This is no common bathhouse. This is the first bathhouse built in the city by one of my ancestors. Better than anything in the palace, I assure you."

It was Aladdin's turn to laugh, and the walls boomed the sound back at him. He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Anyone outside had surely heard him.

The princess did not sound worried. "They won't come in unless I call. They are my attendants, and they serve me."

"What kind of princess are you?" he burst out.

"The sort who entertains men alone if it pleases her, who prefers this bathhouse to the shallow pools in the harem. The Sultan has many daughters, and we have our own talents. Some of us are not destined for marriage alliances." She sounded almost bitter at this.

"Any man who saw you would be a fool not to beg for your hand," Aladdin said.

"Most men prefer other parts of my body to my hands," the princess said drily.

Aladdin lifted his startled gaze to her face. "But...I thought..."

Pain appeared in her eyes. "I am Princess Maram, a courtesan from the Sultan's court, who accompanies our ambassadors to far off countries. Sometimes I persuade the men of other royal houses to look favourably on my father's proposals. Most men find my body hard to resist, though you don't seem to struggle. Why is that? Do you prefer men?"

Aladdin's face reddened. "Your Highness, your beauty is irresistible indeed, but I am a humble spinner's son. I have grown used to not having things I desire, however ardently." As if to remind him that he had not eaten since the previous day, his stomach gave an alarming rumble.

Princess Maram's eyes narrowed. "Yasmeen, have food and refreshments brought for two," she called.

"Yes, Your Highness," came a voice from the entrance hall, but the girl did not appear.

Aladdin allowed himself to breathe again. "You are too magnanimous, Your Highness."

She smiled. "No, I'm quite selfish, actually. I am accustomed to having men stare at me hungrily because they desire me, not because they are starving, therefore your hunger must be satisfied. What is your name, spinner's son?"

"Aladdin," he choked out.

"Aladdin, which means excellence and faith. A name you share with the sultan who commanded that this bathhouse be built. I think there is more to you than being a simple spinner's son." Maram's eyes seemed to see into his very soul, and Aladdin was helpless to stop her.

For the first time, he forced himself to meet her gaze squarely. "Forgive my impertinence, Princess, but I am no more and no less than my mother's son."

She smiled. "And I am my mother's daughter, which defines me more than you know. I will forgive you, if you will forgive my poor choice of words."

Aladdin bowed his head to the floor once more. "There is nothing to forgive, Your Highness."