Chapter 2

Abis Mol was feeling absolutely abysmal. After being flung at Mach ten out of Aggrabah via that cheating Aladdin's annoying genie, it had been a hot trek through the desert back to their secret hideout where they licked their wounds and lamented their failure. While Haroud soaked his baking feet in the nearby watering hole, Abis Mol made his way to his usual spot, one of leaning support columns that held the roof of their lair up. He took hold of it with both hands, and he then began to fiercely bang his head against it. Every day, every time, it was the same darn thing. He would try to steal something, make a dishonest living like his mother had always wanted for him, and just as he was about to make the getaway HE would show up. A thousand curses he swore upon the boy, that miserable Aladdin. Why did he always have to butt into his personal business? He was a thief once, too. Where did he get off with that high and mighty attitude? Didn't the cur know about the luck of the bandit? He steals something, he gets away with it! That's how these things work!

Haroud lifted one foot out of the water, and he inspected it carefully. He had acquired three more bunyans since the last time he had been here. He really needed better shoes. Perhaps he would frisk some off of his next victims during his rare solo runs. He looked up from his feet and he studied his employer with some mild amusement. That particular pillar seemed to be his favorite judging from the ever-deepening indentation his forehead was making upon it. His boss also seemed to be particularly upset this time, no doubt because of the underwear incident. Honestly, this was perhaps the only reason he continued to work for someone as incompetent as Abis Mol. His meltdowns were absolutely hilarious sights to behold. However, he knew it had to stop at one point, otherwise he risked letting his master inflict serious brain damage upon himself, and Allah knew he the poor fellow didn't have much left to lose up there.

"Sir," he began, trying to sound understanding, "please stop. You've beaten yourself up enough today. Why don't you go warm yourself by the fire, and I'll fix something for us to eat."

"Don't bother me, Haroud!" Abis Mol snapped at him while giving the column three more smacks.

"It makes me crazy!"

SMACK!

"It isn't fair!"

SMACK!

"Why can't he just leave me alone?"

SMACK! SMACK!

"I!"

SMACK!

"Want!"

SMACK!

"To!"

SMACK!

"WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

He started to slam his forehead against the column with earnest, but the force was starting to make the entire slab shake. Haroud chanced a glance upward, and his eyes bulged when he saw the column was finally starting to break loose from the ceiling.

"Look out, sir!" Haround cried with alarm.

He quickly yanked the shorter, fatter fellow out of the way, and not a moment too soon. The column fell with a thunderous crash, sending up a spray of dust and debris as the entire lair rumbled with its demise. Then, all fell silent, and the dust began to slowly sink to the ground. With the crisis now over, both Haroud and Abis Mol appeared from their hiding place. Haroud watched as his employer approached the shattered column in a dream like state while wearing a glazed look. He stopped at the foot of the fallen column, and he just stared at it for several minutes. Then, his lips began to tremble, tears started to form, and before Haroud knew it Abis Mol was on his knees, sobbing like a child whose toy had just been broken.

"It just isn't fair!" The round man blubbered. "First my pants, then my dignity, and now my favorite column! What else must he take from me? Curse you, Aladdin! Curse you and your good looks, your blessed life, and every piece of gold your rub between your fingers! I just wish that once, and only once, that I would win!"

He fell onto his face as his crying became more intense. Haroud merely sighed, and he started forward so that he could console the poor thing. However, he had only gone through half of the wreckage of the column when he spied something glittering amidst the pile. Curious and his sad friend forgotten, he bent down to investigate. It appeared that the column had been hollowed out at some point in the past, and the glittering object was lying intact and now fully exposed inside a column fragment. After picking it up, he blew some dust off of it, and his eyes went wide while his jaw dropped.

"Eureka!"

Abis Mol jumped with a fright, and he wheeled about on his manservant with an angry look.

"Haroud! What have I told you about using those big words when you're in my presence? I've got a big enoug headache as it is."

"A mere slip of the tongue, sir." Haroud said as he went racing over to his employer's side. "But you simply must see this!"

He presented the object to Abis Mol, revealing it to be a large volume book with a gilded S on the cover. Abis Mol stared at it for a moment, and then he scowled.

"A book? That's what's got you all worked up? I hate books! All those words and symbols all bunched up, demanding that you read them. That you follow it all and understand it! Well maybe some of us have more important things to do! Maybe we're too smart to be bothered with worthless things like books! Maybe I'll just throw this useless thing into the fire!"

He snatched the book away, and he started for the large torch lamp that provided light for the entire lair.

"Take one more step and die, you brainless miscreant!"

Abis Mol froze, and he slowly turned back to face Haroud.

"Haroud. What did you just say?"

"Merely getting your attention, sir." Haroud said quickly with mounting annoyance. "You very nearly threw away the only win you may very well receive in your life."

Now Abis Mol was confused. Not exactly a new experience, but the short man was intrigued by his taller companion.

"What kinda bad yak's milk have you been drinking, Haroud? Just what is so special about a book?"

"It isn't just the book that's special, sir." Haroud insisted while taking the book from his hapless employer. "It is who wrote it that may very well be the key to our taking up revenue on easy street. This symbol here on the cover; this S. This is the marking of King Solomon!"

Abis Mol flashed him a blank stare.

"King Solomon the wise?"

Still staring.

"King Solomon whose works are still being taught to children and scholars to this very day?"

Still staring.

Haroud sighed sadly and placed a hand over his face. "He's the one those tapestries with the beard and the tall pointy hat."

Like candles in a dark cave, Abis Mol's eyes began to sparkle.

"Ooooooh, yeah! That guy! I love that guy! He's got a cool hat."

"Of course, sir." Haroud said with an eyeroll. "That makes this book, a book that has been penned by his hand, a valuable antique. Why, just this book alone could be worth both our weights in gold."

There was that spark again in the short man's eyes.

"Ah, I get you now, Haroud, you clever jackal you!"

He snatched the book back.

"Wait till that shrimp Aladdin lays eyes on the fortune we claim with this baby. What's better, it'll be a legitamite trade, so he won't be able to assault me for it. It's a bit morally conflicting given my love for thievery, but a win is definitely a win."

"Now slow down there, sir." Haroud said quickly, once again taking the book back. "You are but scratching the tip of a very large iceberg. You see, there is a legend about Solomon's greatest works being hidden in a grand library, works that would make this mere book as pointless as camel feed. To he who finds such a trove would be to attain the greatest of knowledge...as well as the largest fortune in all of the seven deserts. It is also said that "

The fire in Abis Mol's eyes could have set the entire cavern ablaze. He jumped high into the air, and he cut loose with a wild and victorious cry.

"At long last, Haroud, my faithful manservant! Our ship has finally come in! Never once have I lost faith in the luck of the bandit, and at last it has graced us with the greatest bounty ever to be achieved. And it's all thanks to this marvelous, dusty sack of pages.

With that, he once again snatched the book away and flipped it over, scanning over the pages in earnest. After all but a few seconds of reading, he snapped it shut.

"Haroud! This book is broken! Its words make even less sense than they usually do!"

For the last time, Haroud reclaimed the book.

"It isn't just your illiteracy, sir. Of all the virtues that made King Solomon the great ruler he was, trust in humanity was not one of them. He was a paranoid old fool, and he wrote in a very special code in each of his books. A code only the truly greatest of minds could read."

"Are you saying I'm stupid?!" Abis Mol snapped.

"Of course not, sir." Haroud lied. "I'm just saying that this book has been written in a language that hasn't been seen for millennia. But do not despair, for I know of a place where we can find one who may very well be able to translate the writings."

Abis Mol was visibly shuddering with excitement.

"Tell me! Where? Where?"

"The kingdom of Maktaba!" Haroud declared with a dramatic sweep of his arms. "The legendary home of King Solomon himself, whose very ancestors still live there to this very day. If there is, indeed, one who can translate this text, then that is where we shall find them."

This news pleased Abis Mol quite well. He allowed himself a wicked chuckle, and he began to rub his hands together in rabid anticipation.

"Get some sleep, Haroud, for come the dawn we shall make haste across the burning desert for the great desert for the great city of Maktaba for he who may translate this ancient. I must find this one, this diamond in the rough."

Haroud frowned as he stared at his employer curiously.

"Not to kill the moment, sir, but why did you say it like that?"

Abis Mol looked up at Haroud, and he shrugged.

"Honestly? I have no idea."