Magical Mechanications (8 page)

“A magician, you mean,” Aladdin pressed.

“Come, come, Aladdin,” Jaha chided. “You hardly believe in such nonsense as magic, séances, and the like, do you?” He shook his head. “In my travels I have met many interesting people, but it was a Frenchman named Robert-Houdin that opened my eyes at what many perceived as ‘magic.’ He helped refine and sharpen my skills; not only in my illusions but also in my relationships with my fellow man. You saw how I knew the master of this house?”

Aladdin nodded.

“In fact I only knew of his name—but knowing a man’s name can grant you entrance into his home. It is these talents of society that aided me in my advancement. Something I would very much like to pass unto you—when you are ready,” he said to Aladdin with a wink before continuing his story. “Once I had made a name for myself, I set out to fulfill a promise; to reunite with my brother.”

Aladdin hung his head.

Jaha nodded. “As I feared.” He looked Aladdin over, “You are what—fourteen?”

“Sixteen,” Aladdin insisted.

“Of course, your smaller size—I should have known.” He nodded, finished his tea, and rose from the table. “What of your mother?”

“She still makes carpets for the palace,” he replied, tearing another slice of flatbread in half as he stood.

“Take me to her,” he said. “It is time I make amends to my lost family.”

Aladdin watched in awe as the magician thanked the owner without paying a single coin for the fine meal.

Jaha tilted his head. “His payment is in my presence there. People saw us go in, people saw us leave, our bellies full, our faces smiling contentedly. His business will prosper.” His smile glowed against his darkened skin. “That is not magic, but something far more powerful—the testimony of the All-Powerful Jaha.” He winked at him and then nodded. “Now, I wish to see my sister.”

Two

“Mother!” Aladdin cried. “Mother!”

Her hands lowered from the lamp above her head as he entered the humble dwelling. The second lamp already burning signaled she was anticipating a long night and a large amount of work.

“Well, well, my clever son, what steals your breath so at the end of the day?” Her tone grew mirthless as she added, “I heard a story about some commotion by the docks. A young thief swift of foot enjoyed a quick escape from the Sultan’s guards.”

Aladdin felt his throat tighten, but hearing footsteps behind him, he quickly rediscovered his voice. “Mother, I have a surprise. A blessing! My uncle has found me!”

“Uncle?” His mother barked out a laugh. “Boy, what mischief are you—”

Her words halted at the sight of Jaha. He touched his fingertips to his forehead, his lips, and then his heart.

Jaha’s arms opened as he said, “Dearest sister, I present myself to you as your humble servant.”

Aladdin’s mother stumbled back. “You—you—” she stammered, “—you are the All-Powerful Jaha!”

“And your departed love’s brother. Lost for many a year, but sadly come too late after his death.”

Aladdin hugged his mother as she fought to catch her breath. “He’s not really a magician, but an illusionist,” he assured her.

The woman’s eyes darted between him and Jaha. “Mustapha never mentioned a brother...”

“As I told your industrious son here, I was taken from our family when he was very young. Perhaps he remembered me as a shade, a distant memory, but I never forgot him.” He motioned to a seat and smiled warmly. “May I?”

Both Aladdin and his mother scrambled to clear a place for him at their small table. With a whisper to his mother, the boy turned to a small hearth and began to boil water for tea.

Behind him, Jaha continued. “My own life, while of late has been quite blessed with fortune, was formerly a tale of misery and woe. Aladdin has heard much of it already. As I was lost to my brother, please forgive me as I ask your name.”

Aladdin watched his mother blush; truly a rare sight to behold. “Farrin.”

“Farrin,” he repeated, his eyes seemed to catch the light of the nearby lamp. “I can only beg you to forgive me for my failure in not contacting you sooner. I hope you do not mind that I called upon young Aladdin here first.”

Her hand went to her mouth. Aladdin paused when a muffled sob escape his mother. When she spoke, he felt his skin prickle. “Oh dear brother, it is I who must beg of forgiveness for the shame that haunts our family is all on account of my boy.”

Her son spun around. “Mother, no! You make so very little as a rug maker for the Sultan and for the merchants of Bagdad! What I do I must so that we can survive!”

“You shame your father’s name with your mischief!” Farrin spat over her shoulder.

“Farrin, Aladdin, please…”

They were silenced by the gentle plea. Jaha looked upon them both, his expression not piteous but more regretful.

“I blame myself for your strife,” he said, his soft, soothing voice filling the confines of their home. “I should have come sooner, taken a more authoritative role in my brother’s affairs, but I had not the opportunity to call upon you.”

Aladdin stared at the All-Powerful Jaha. His mind repeated over and over again—that this was the great Jaha prostrate before them. He looked over to his mother, and she was as equally dumbstruck.

“Please, Farrin, let me begin to make amends; let me take Aladdin as an apprentice. The boy is of an age where he should come to discover his path, his destiny.” Aladdin’s mother gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth as Jaha continued, “Our journey, if it so please you, would start tonight—after you have eaten.”

Aladdin scuttled in front of his mother and dropped to his knees. “Please, Mother, please! Let me do this!”

On many occasions Aladdin had seen his mother cry, usually on account of his thievery—but this was the first time her tears were ones of joy. He placed his hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it.

“Oh, Aladdin, you are so like your father. I tried so hard to guide you, but I always knew your gifts were not meant for an ordinary life.”

“I could see that in his little rooftop adventure this afternoon,” Jaha said, his smile approving and perhaps a bit mischievous.

His mother arched a brow. “So…”

“Mother, please, are you going to spoil this moment of happiness?”

“Thinking about it,” she quipped.

A laugh suddenly bubbled out from her. This was his punishment then—a tweak of his nose.

“It’s settled then?” Jaha asked, rising from his place. “A lovely farewell dinner for your mother, and then we are off, the two of us, yes?” He clapped his hands together. “Gather what you will need, Aladdin, as we will leave from the restaurant.”

“Yes, Master,” Aladdin said, just before disappearing deeper into the small house. When he returned he carried a small haversack over one shoulder and another pack which covered his entire back.

“What in the name—” Jaha began.

“Oh, Aladdin, certainly you cannot mean to lug that infernal device on your travels.”

“Mother, it is nearly done!” he protested. “I can finish it whilst we travel.”

“You have me most curious, Aladdin,” Jaha said, then motioned to the outside where night was falling quickly.

“Fine, bring it with you, but—” Aladdin’s mother said, her slender finger pointing at her son, “it stays outside the restaurant.”

“I can’t do that,” Aladdin began, pulling the covered pack closer to him. “There are thieves in the city.”

He couldn’t understand why Jaha and his mother found his concerns so funny. They were both, in fact, moved to tears.

The three of them were quite the sight as they walked through the streets. A local rug maker, a street whelp carrying an odd contraption across his back, and a world-renown magician.

As they went, Jaha wanted to hear more about his departed brother, and his mother remained curious about the life Aladdin would be living under his care. The words they traded were just that to him—words. Aladdin surrendered himself to ideas he had once reserved for dreams. Everything was changing before him. His uncle was
an illusionist!
Aladdin knew of these men and their need for ingenious machinations. His dreams were now about to take form. Full form. Something tangible. Something wonderful.

He was still quite full from lunch; so while his mother and uncle talked, laughed, and celebrated, Aladdin stared at the covered device by his feet. He then felt a slight pressure on his stomach and gave a little chuckle. The prize from earlier that day was still there, waiting. He breathed a sigh of relief. Since meeting Jaha, everything had been a blur.

“Aladdin.”

He blinked, nearly jumping at the sound of his name. The conversation had paused between Jaha, his mother, and what appeared to be a small group of followers of Jaha. All eyes were upon him, and Aladdin felt his skin grow hot.

“Forgive me, uncle,” he spoke. The strange sensation of being the center of attention he found he didn’t particularly like.

“No need, my apprentice,” Jaha said proudly. “Were you having a vision of the future?”

His uncle did understand him. “Yes, Master. I think Iwas.”

Jaha chuckled, encouraging those gathered to laugh with him. “Excellent, my clever apprentice. This is why I have come home, and we must not waste away our time together. I do have one more performance before your great Sultan in the Imperial Theatre tomorrow, but tonight I have business elsewhere that cannot wait. We must be off.” The crowd groaned in protest, but Jaha held his hands up, shaking his head slowly. “I did promise myself that I would not keep Aladdin from the opportunities that away him and twilight is upon us. Come, my apprentice, for you have much to learn.”

As Jaha gave blessings to his followers, Aladdin stepped aside with his mother.

“I will not disappoint you,” he pledged.

“No, you will not,” she assured him. “I know there is much of your father in you, and all you have needed is a purpose. I believe Jaha will give you that purpose.”

“Yes,” he said, turning to look at his uncle, “I believe my uncle will lead me to great fortune.”

“Promise me something, Aladdin,” his mother said, the tone in her voice demanding his full attention, “do not dismiss what you have already learned.”

Aladdin’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, mother?”

Her dark gaze flicked over to Jaha and then returned back to him. “I mean that even in light of my disapproval, you are far more clever than you realize. You know when danger is close.” Her eyes went back to his uncle again, and she added, “As does your mother.”

Aladdin did not turn. The strange chill that he felt on meeting Jaha had returned, so intensely that he had to fight down a shudder.

“Go with Jaha. I do not doubt that you will find your destiny as he promises but perhaps not in the fashion that you may imagine.”

She wrapped her arms around him, and he could feel it in her embrace. This was goodbye.

This was also an opportunity. “What is it, mother?” he whispered in her ear.

“Your father was one of three children. He had two sisters,” she returned, her grip tightened. “There was no brother.” They parted as Jaha drew closer. “Be safe, my sweet son.”

Aladdin knew the tears in her eyes were sincere. She wanted him to discover why this man wanted him, and she believed in his ability to return home. He was, as she said, a survivor.

“I will, mother. I will.”

They both waved in return to the small gathering and their affection. Their collected wishes of luck, prosperity, and opulence continued to echo around them until finally Aladdin and Jaha we surrounded by moonlight and the open deserts.

He held an unlit torch, and turned it base sharply to the left. The bulbous tip erupted into flame.

“We have a few hours of gas within this, so we must make haste,” he said to Aladdin. “Come.”

Aladdin looked over his shoulder one last time, shifted the contraption across his back once more, and followed Jaha into the darkness.

Three

“The idea of performing magic in front of so many is a little frightening,” Aladdin admitted to the man at his side as they crested a dune.

He had never traveled so far at night across the desert, and he found the quiet most unsettling. Even tucked away in a corner of the city there was always a din. There were people close. Always. Here, in the expanse devouring him, his voice seemed to disappear.

“I’m more used to remaining unseen,” he continued. Why wasn’t Jaha talking to him? He had become ever so quiet since leaving Baghdad. “I wouldn’t call it stage fright so much as a new way of thinking, yes, uncle? Now instead of sleight-of-hand that no on should see, I now must think of how to do what I have always done, but make sure everyone sees me.”

Jaha paused, looked to his left, then to his right.

“Yes,” Aladdin said, shifting the pack on his shoulders again as he looked over the open void before them, “it will take some getting used—”

The gaslight torch was still high above Jaha’s head when he rounded on Aladdin. His face was still mostly concealed in shadow, but the whites of his eyes managed to cut through the void.