The Forbidden Wish(14)

Balak laughs and steps aside to let us pass through the little door, then shuts it behind us.

We descend steep, narrow stairs in the dark, the smell of simmon and sweat growing stronger the deeper we get. The passage grows lighter, and the swell of voices reaches our ears. Aladdin pulls the hood of his cloak low over his face.

We step abruptly into a cavernous room packed wall to wall with sweating bodies. Braziers circling the wooden pillars give off acrid smoke that obscures the ceiling. The air is so thick with simmon that it is impossible to see the other end of the room. Aladdin takes my hand so that the press of bodies doesn’t pull us apart, and together we wind our way through the crowd. There are mostly men down here, and a few night women, all of them drunk or clouded by simmon, all of them sweating. With my free hand, I wrap a strip of black silk around my face, covering my mouth and nostrils in an attempt to block out the stench.

“Welcome to the Rings!” Aladdin calls over his shoulder. “Stay close.” Though we are inches apart, it is difficult to hear him over the sudden roar of the crowd. A potbellied man jostles me as he lifts his arms to cheer, and the blast of his odor leaves me gagging.

“For once I think I prefer my lamp,” I mutter.

A harried serving girl, dressed in little more than scraps of fabric that reveal her lithe figure, steps up to ask us what we want to drink. Then she does a double take and peers closer at Aladdin.

“You!” she hisses. “You were banned for life from this place! Ugh, Balak is the most worthless doorman I ever—”

“Quiet, Dal.” He tugs his hood lower. “I’m in disguise. Bring a flagon of the strongest liquid you have, will you?”

She purses her lips. “You have some nerve, thief, asking me for anything.”

Aladdin presses a coin into her hand and gives her a cocky grin. “Oh, come on. We had some good times, didn’t we?”

“I’d have a good time breaking this flagon over your head. Who is she? I’ve never seen her around before.” Dal looks me up and down, and I return her gaze coolly.

“She’s with me. New to town. I’m showing her around a bit.”

Dal rolls her eyes. “I’ve heard that line before.” She leans closer to me. “Here’s some advice, sister: Don’t waste your time on this one. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

“I think I’m starting to get what you mean,” I reply.

“All right, all right,” Aladdin interrupts, frowning. “We came here for drinks, not girl talk. What’s this?” He points to a red ribbon tied around her arm. “I’ve seen a couple of people wearing them since I got back.”

She puts her hand over it, her eyes flashing. “It’s a symbol, says I stand behind the Phoenix, and against injustice. You know they doubled taxes again yesterday? If you don’t pay, they either throw you in prison or take your property, if not both. They’re hanging people just for speaking out against it!”

Aladdin only grunts.

“I’d have thought you of all people would want to join up. Remember the plague in the eastern quarter? The guards quarantined it and were prepared to let all those people die? The Phoenix snuck in and gave medicine to all the sick. He saved hundreds of people. This is real, Aladdin. The Phoenix isn’t just another talker, he’s . . . well, he’s giving us hope. And it’s more than we’ve had since . . .” She gives him a long look, as if about to say more, but then she sighs and just shakes her head.

“Since my parents? You don’t have to dance around it, Dal. I know what you’re thinking, what all of you are thinking. I don’t want to talk about the damn Phoenix anymore,” Aladdin grumbles.

She snorts and turns away, pocketing the coin, then returns in moments with a bottle. “Your friend Xaxos was in here looking for you a few days back. Didn’t look too happy.”

Aladdin opens the wine. When he offers it to me I shake my head. “Old Xax?” he says casually. “I’ve got no business with him.”

“He’d disagree, I think. He said he hired you for a job—I didn’t need to ask to know what that meant. So you’re still up to your old tricks, then?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, he’s pretty angry with you. Said you pulled the job, then left town. Guards are hunting for a thief too. Offering a thousand gold crowns for his head.” She narrows her eyes. “Did you break into the palace, Aladdin?”

“A thousand crowns?” Aladdin gives a low whistle. “Nearly makes a man want to turn himself in.”

“Of all the stupid things . . .” Her eyes glowering, Dal gives us both a brief, sharp look before going to mop up someone’s spilled wine.

Aladdin finds a table near the central ring, where two men the size of bulls are grappling. One, whose neck is easily the size of my waist, is getting the upper hand. He’s stripped nearly bare, doused in oil to make him slippery. His head, bald but for a long black tail sprouting from the top, gleams like a boiled egg. His opponent, slightly smaller, is on the defensive, holding up his hands to block the bigger man’s blows.

Aladdin watches with disinterest and takes a long swig of wine.

“See that?” He runs his finger over the tabletop, where someone has carved a small symbol.

“It looks like a sewing needle,” I say.