Aisha swayed a little on her toes; she steadied herself, wondering if the eagle-sharp eyes of her colleagues had seen her. They intimidated her, but they also encouraged her to show no fear. Besides, it was a crucial stage of the operation. She couldn't afford their jeers to weaken her confidence now.

Shut up. She was thinking too much. Focus, Aisha. Watch the street, watch the street… There! Sparks flared in the night once, twice, three times. The signal.

Aisha looked over her shoulder and nodded once at her men, who looked back at her with blank eyes. She leapt and swung from window to window silently, using momentum and a nice swing of the body to launch herself into the room. She rolled across the floor and landed, crouched on the floor, looking around the dark room cautiously.

Oh, Aisha, what can I say? You're flawless.

Back to work.

Keeping close to the shadows, Aisha rolled across the floor and waited in a dark corner. One by one, three hulking shadows of men swung themselves in through the window and silently glided to their respectful corners of the room. Aisha relaxed slightly in her corner and tipped her head back, staring at the whitewashed ceiling.

Please, Allah. Let it be tonight.

They sat in utter silence in the blackness for a while. Aisha's mind wandered; her eyelids drooped shut and it was with an effort she wrenched them open again. They'd hang her guts out to dry if they found her sleeping on the job. She had to focus, in case Gharibad came in…

Aisha jerked herself awake again. How much time had passed? Not much, by the looks of it. Nothing in the sparsely decorated, white-washed room had changed. Straining her eyes, Aisha could just make out the dim figures of her men hiding in the shadows. Gharibad still hadn't arrived to make the handover. Aisha squirmed a little in her corner as she wondered, not for the first time, what Gaheel and the others had done to the man Gharibad had originally arranged to meet with the gold. Surely they wouldn't have killed him… Oh, don't be naïve, Aisha. Of course they killed him. Even if they just dumped him in the desert, he would be dead by now.

Aisha chewed her lip. She had been telling herself for a while that these men weren't killers, even though she really knew they were. I had become a mantra. But if she wanted to get out of this alive… It would probably help if she admitted to herself she had been in the company of killers for the last eight years.

Sounds from outside reached their eyes, and everyone stood up a little straighter. Aisha's ears pricked and her eyes widened against the blackness. Her fists clenched at her sides and she tensed her legs, ready to spring. Her shoulders tightened and she steeled herself, let herself fall into the adrenaline of the moment. Her worries melted away. Her mind numbed and stopped thinking- just the way she liked it.

A little circle of light entered the room and was placed on a tabletop. There were quiet grunts from outside and the sound of wood scraping on the floor and, inch by painful inch, a skinny little body entered the dim light the candle shed. He was hunched over and grunting to himself as he dragged in a weighty chest. Aisha's heart pumped: she couldn't see it, but she could sense it. Gold. The word on her tongue, the touch of it on her fingers. She could already see herself admiring her reflection in a golden goblet…

Gharibad stood up straight and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked around the room curiously; scratched his head in bewilderment. The men concealed in the shadows behind him advanced forward sneakily and silently. Gharibad's dark hand shot forward and grabbed the candle, waving it around curiously in an attempt to catch sight of the man he was supposed to be seeing. For a second, the flames illuminated his face, and for a second Aisha paused.

He was just a boy.

Younger than she was, by far. He must have been just a slave boy of Gharibad's. Aisha cursed herself silently- how could she forget? Rich people never did anything on their own! Damn, damn, damn. This threw a spanner in the entire works-

Fhanji leapt forward and wrapped his thick arms around the boys skinny throat. The movement was almost too quick for Aisha to register, but though her body moved slowly her body acted as the other two thieves stepped out of the shadows, making for the chest as Fhanji held a dagger close to the boy's stomach. Aisha saw him apply the pressure in slow motion, felt her feet move as though in a dream. She waved her arms wildly and caught Fhanji's attention. The boy's terrified face floated just above Fhanji's muscly arm. It was beginning to turn purple.

Stop! Even in the worst of times, Aisha knew she could not draw attention to the home. She used sign language only. We- thief- not- killer.

Aisha's hand paused and hovered in mid-air; the sign for 'killer' was that of a hand being drawn across the throat. Keeping still, she held Fhanji's fierce gaze unwaveringly. Without blinking, she curled the fingers of one hand into her palm and punched the palm of her other hand. Fhanji glared for a few seconds longer before nodding reluctantly and clubbing the poor slave boy over the head with the hilt of his dagger. He stood back and let his limp form collapse to the ground. Aisha nodded at him coldly and moved out of the window, moving her masked face away before he could see the shock and fear engraved in her eyes.

Gaheel and Phojik where helping Casheem haul the heavy gold into the back of a cart; Fhanji joined them with a final meaningful glance over his shoulder at Aisha. She ignored him and took to the rooftops, tailing them until they returned to the hideout. She lingered, watching the building for another hour more, before her eyelids were too heavy to support and she forced herself to turn back.

Her mind was a jumble of thoughts. She had always known they were killers, she had known from the bottom of her heart. She had ignored it because she didn't want to believe that the girl Aladdin and Jasmine and Damir had put so much trust in was associating with such people. As far as she was concerned, being a thief was one thing- at least no-one was getting hurt. But seeing the fluidity with which Fhanji had moved, the cold detachment in his eyes as he began pressing the knife into the boy's belly… It was too much. Aisha could never trust those men, but she hadn't believed that they would stoop so low as to murder a defenceless boy.

So the question remained- what would become of her? If they had no qualms over killing a little boy, she was sure killing an eighteen year old girl would be more than easy. They were impossible to read- who knew how they would react? She thought she could trust Gaheel, at least, but he was only ever interested in the gold. He was more than capable of getting it himself, but if the little provider he had recruited was unable to prove her worth would he just slit her throat and leave her for the flies?

Aisha screwed up her face against the desert wind blowing her hood back and flapping with the cloth tied around her mouth. She was so stupid for getting involved in this damn mess! Damir was right, she wasn't bulletproof and there was no way she could expect to escape from this damned business unscathed. How could she be so naïve? She had to tell them, she had to tell Aladdin and Jasmine. This feeling of helplessness was overwhelming her, and the last thing she wanted to do was get Aladdin to sort out her problems for her, but she couldn't think of anything else.

And here she was: the palace. She scaled the walls with numb fingers and a brain that was foggy. She fell through the air as though she were in a dream and the ground under her toes felt wrong, somehow. She climbed back to her room with her mind somewhere else and threw herself into her window with a peculiar absence of the usual fluidity, instead stumbling and falling. She stood straight and sagged against the wall, her head in her hands.

"Ai?"

Aisha froze. Oh Allah. Oh Allah. It was Aladdin, his bleary brown face poking into her room. She didn't move. Maybe he hadn't seen her, maybe she could still remain invisible for the time being…

"Ai, is that you?"

Aladdin proceeded into the room, peering around much as the little boy had done so a few hours earlier. His eyes fell on her empty bed and he stiffened; his face became positively savage when he saw the stranger standing in the shadows of his adopted daughter's bedroom.

"Guards!" he bellowed. "Gua-"

"Aladdin, don't!" Aisha pleaded, rearing her head and looking at him with beseeching eyes.

Aladdin faltered and he stared. His eyes widened and his eyebrows dipped; he cocked his head in bewilderment, staring into her concealed face. The confusion and betrayal on his face was almost too much for Aisha to handle. "Ai…?"

Aisha bowed her head and silently unwrapped her shawl, letting it fall to the ground in a dirty heap. She untied the cloth around her mouth and let it flutter to the ground silently. She unclasped her cloak and let it slump around her ankles, leaving her shoulders and arms bare to the desert night. She pulled her hair out and let it cascade down her back before wiping it out of her face and forcing herself to look up into Aladdin's hurt eyes.

Aladdin's face had a looked of forced amusement on it. "Wh-what are you doing, Ai?"

"It's me," Aisha replied, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Her thumping heart was clawing itself up her throat and making itself home in her mouth, which may have also had something to do with it. "I'm the thief. It was me Jajim saw the other night. I've been leading four other men in the thief ring. It was me, it was all me."

"How long?" Aladdin asked, voice expressionless.

"Eight years," Aisha whispered, lowering her eyes. She couldn't bear it, she couldn't handle it…

"Eight years?" Aladdin repeated numbly. "But that's…"

"Since I've been living here, I know," Aisha cried. "But I just, I just, I just couldn't handle it! I got so- so bored, I just had to do something-"

Aladdin chuckled wearily and sat down on the bed, running a hand through his hair. "It's addictive, isn't it?" he mused.

Aisha blinked. "What?"

"The adrenaline," he explained. "Once you've had it, you never forget it. The thrill of the steal…"

"And the triumph of getting away with it," Aisha added tentatively. She hadn't moved from her spot: she was tempted to but she was scared of what he would do.

"That too," Aladdin smiled faintly. "I know what it's like, Ai. Believe me, I do. But why didn't you just tell me? I could have taken you out. It would have been much less dangerous…"

"Not to mention unseemly," Aisha said with a grin. "It's kind of lame to be seen out stealing with your adoptive parent."

Aladdin smiled that sad smile. "I would have given the world to," he mused quietly.

Aisha lowered her eyes. She probably shouldn't have said that. "I didn't think you'd understand," she admitted quietly.

"I know," Aladdin sighed. "Come here."

Aisha took a tentative seat beside him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Aisha let her head rest on his shoulder and closed her eyes, remembering what it was like to be held this way when she was little…

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and was surprised to find tears falling down her cheeks. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried.

"I know," Aladdin said softly. Just tell me next time, OK? You could have gotten yourself killed."

Aisha tried to speak, but her throat was constricted. Air wouldn't convert itself to words. So she just nodded and gasped and tried to swallow the tears. Aladdin ran a hand through her hair before standing straight. "Get changed," he said softly. "Go to bed. We'll talk about it later."

Aisha nodded and disentangled herself, looking at him with red eyes. He smiled. "It's OK," he reassured her. "I'm not angry. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Aisha smiled weakly back and watched him go; staying true to her word she got changed and crawled under the bed covers again, burying herself in the safety and security of her blankets. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow.