The True Story of Jafar
Chapter Two
By: DangerMouse, The Great Immortal
"Come along, Clest," clicked Jalan softly. The elderly mare clucked in return, her pace not increasing in the least. She gave Jalan a look that seemed to say, I AM in charge here. Do not think for a moment I'll let you push me around. Jalan shook his head. Why do I have such bad luck with animals, he thought to himself, looking at the slightly irate Iago.
"Don't look at me like that," grumbled the bird softly in Jalan's ear. "I can read your thoughts better than you think." Jalan just sighed and bit his lip to keep from smiling. Best to change the subject.
"Are you hungry, Iago?" he asked, a bit louder than he should have. Some people in the marketplace turned to look at him curiously. A grown man talking to a bird. What was this world coming to? They had only recently left the palace. Jalan had donned his traveling robes, which, for all practical purposes, looked very much like common peasant clothes. Even his horse was saddled with only a thin, care worn blanket. The young mage had learned early on that the best traveling clothes were the ones that made you look the poorest.
"Awk! Polly want a cracker! Awk!" Jalan smiled at Iago, who winked at him in return. Taking that as an affirmative, Jalan wandered over to a booth where a crafty looking merchant was selling bread and fruit.
"Ahh, good sir. Welcome! I have the finest, most luscious fruit in all of Agrabah!" The merchant held up a melon and continued with his sales pitch. "Melons so juicy, so full of water, that you will not be required to drink water for a week after you have one! And the bread," he exclaimed, holding up said ware. "The bread is so soft on the inside and crispy on the outside - it just melts in you mouth!"
"Sounds good," replied Jalan and he purchased the bread and a few figs. Ripping off a bit, he fed it to Iago, who squawked happily in return. They did have enough food and money to last them the bulk of the journey, but the lull of fresh-baked bread was hard to resist. Jalan smiled cheerfully to himself and grabbed Clest's reins, aiming to get out of the city. However, something caught him out of the corner of his eye and he turned to look at it.
A young boy, about Princess Jasmine's age, stood in the shadows of a nearby alley, eyeing the merchant's cart. No doubt he was planning to steal food at any minute. He was dressed in a pair of torn pants that at one point might have been white. A ratty vest served as his only shirt. On top of his head was an odd looking little hat. Probably an orphan, though Jalan sadly. He walked over to the boy, whose eyes got wide. He looked as though he might bolt at any minute. Jalan reached out his hand and caught the boy's wrist as he started to sprint away.
"I didn't take anything! Let me go!" cried the boy trying hard to pull out of Jalan's grasp. But Jalan wouldn't relent. He reached into his pack to pull of out what was left of the bread, which was most of it. The boy stopped struggling and threw his free hand up to protect his head, convinced Jalan was out to hit him. This surprised the mage so much he let go of the boy's hand and backed up. The boy did not notice, however, and continued to cower on the ground, waiting for the blow he was certain would come.
"Here," said Jalan with a sigh, holding out the bread. The boy raised his head and looked at the man in confusion. As understanding dawned across his face, he set his features firmly and shook his head, refusing the food. Jalan sighed again and rolled his eyes. "Go on. Take it. I'm offering it to you. At least now you really won't have to steal it this time."
"Won't steal. Won't steal. Awk!"
The boy looked from Jalan to the bread, to Iago, to the bread, and back to Jalan again. Tentatively, he reached out and took it. The mage smiled reassuringly. Holding the bread close to his chest, the boy looked at the mage carefully.
"What do you want in return?" asked the boy, his eyes narrowing. Jalan saw that this boy wasn't just going to accept charity. Whoever his parents had been, they had taught him well. Jalan thought a minute before answering.
"A promise," he said finally. The boy looked at Jalan with confusion, not understanding what he meant. "A promise," continued Jalan, "that you'll only steal what you need to get by. Stealing hurts others as much as poverty hurts you. A promise that you'll look out for those less fortunate than you, especially if they're in danger. A promise that even though society has deemed it that you be on the bottom rung, you don't turn to evil as a way of getting revenge." Jalan walked over and tousled the boy's hair a few times. "You aren't much now, but the pressures of our lives can change a person in a number of ways. You can get pushed around until you crack or you can become a diamond in the rough. It's all up to you." Jalan stopped at looked down at the boy, expecting him to be looking at him strangely and backing away. Instead, he had a thoughtful expression on his face. He nodded slowly and smiled back at Jalan.
"I promise," stated the boy firmly, looking at Jalan full in the eyes. He bowed once to the mage and rushed off, getting lost in the crowd. Jalan smiled. Iago cocked his head to the side but said nothing. Picking up Clest's reins again, the mage and his familiar headed out beyond the city's walls. Once they were far out of hearing distance, Iago turned to Jalan, the questions he had been holding in coming out in a rush.
"A diamond in the rough?" asked the bird.
"An old legend my father told me once," explained the mage. "In every generation, there is one person who stands out from the rest - one who is molded by the pressures around him to become a diamond. Hardest in spirit, most beautiful in soul." Jalan looked thoughtful for a moment and mounted his horse. "I saw something in that boy," he said softly, digging his heels into Clest's side to make her (unsuccessfully) go faster. "I hope he keeps his promise."
* * * * * *
Iago decided what it was he didn't like about deserts.
They were hot. They were big. They were full of sand. They didn't have enough water.
He hated them. He hated them almost as much as he hated walking through them. No - he hated walking through them more. He decided to make his hate known.
"I hate this," stated Iago for the sixteenth time in the last hour. Jalan girt his teeth but said nothing, any argument he made no doubt falling on deaf ears. Well, parrots didn't have ears, but that was beside the point.
"Why can't we just magic ourselves to this convention thingy?"
"It would be too dangerous," replied Jalan, shading his eyes with his hand. Was that a Venger City up there or another illusion? He looked back at the map. Deserts were just too featureless. He had no idea which sand dune he was on anymore.
"What makes it dangerous?"
"There's too much magic floating around at a convention like this," he explained. "It's really dangerous to mix magics. There aren't only going to be mages like myself there. We'll see druids, fae, spiritual mages, water mages, shadow mages, and lots of naturally magical artifacts, such as medallions and wands, not to mention many familers. Magic radiates out like lines. With that many lines crisscrossing, a spark could cause the whole place to blow."
"Yech," replied Iago. "That really would be some explosion."
"Only High Mages and those with that rank are allowed to teleport in," finished Jalan, looking back at the map. His eyes widened in surprised and he scowled, flipping the map around. He'd had it upside down.
"Well, I just wish you would hurry up and become a High Mage," huffed Iago. "This desert is causing me to molt. I'll be a very embarrassed, bald bird by the time we get to the convention."
Jalan shrugged and shook his head. "It's never wise for a sorcerer to try to grab too much magic too fast," he said helplessly. "Magic has to be learned through discipline and study, not with easy shortcuts. The art has to be learned over time. If you try to take on too much magic too soon, it's likely to destroy you. Besides," said Jalan, ripping the map in half and shoving it back in his pack, "If you're really that hot, why don't you just morph into your humanoid form? Then you wouldn't have any molting problems."
"I'd rather molt than sweat," mumbled the bird. He puffed out his chest and gave a gusty sigh. Jalan chuckled at his familiar and continued to urge Clest along, wisely refraining from mentioning that they were completely lost.
* * * * * *
Jalan glanced bitterly down at the empty cloth pouch on the table in front of him. The smoke in the tavern he was resting in stung his eyes. He tried, without success, to brush some of the dust off of his clothing. They had traveled three days in the desert before finally finding a city called Diambus and realizing they had been traveling in the wrong direction. Diambus was to the northwest. The convention was in the northeast. Jalan sighed. It wasn't that big of a deal. They still had a week until the convention and would have no problems getting there. Other, more pressing matters had developed.
Mainly, the fact that they were completely and utterly broke. Upon arriving in the city, Clest had been spooked and started to run - the fastest Jalan had seen her move in over six years. She ran through the dusty, desert town with wild abandon. It must have been quite a sight, now that Jalan reflected on it. A charging old mare being chased by a young man in filthy traveling clothes and a bright red parrot. But, nothing Iago could say to the horse would get her to stop. And she continued to run...
Right through a merchant's tent. Now, of course, the merchant couldn't be a dealer in bricks or clothes. Oh no. It had to be a glass blower's tent who happened to have two side businesses as well - clay pots and expensive imported china dishes. All of the man's wares had been shattered. He demanded compensation, which just happened to add up to all the money Jalan had brought with him, as well as a few days labor to pay off the rest of the debt. They had already been gone from Agrabah almost a week and Jalan had nothing to show for it except an empty purse and a not-so-sunny disposition. Jalan collapsed with his head on the table.
"Oh, it ain't that bad."
The mage looked up and saw Iago perched in front of him. The parrot looked to be rather well off. He clunked a satchel full of coins in front of his master and pruned his feathers.
"Where did you get this?" asked Jalan with renewed energy, sitting up and hefting the money pouch. His eyes narrowed slightly. "You didn't steal this, did you?"
The bird had the dignity to look insulted. "Steal? Jalan, I do NOT steal. I just took your advice."
"What advice?" probed the mage, starting to feel uneasy.
"Well, you told me to spend some time in my human form. So I did." The parrot shrugged and winked at his master. "After all, parrots don't play poker."
Jalan scowled but smiled inside. "Great. Now my familiar is gambling for me." He petted the parrot on the head. "I appreciate the gesture, but this is only enough money to get us one night's lodging. We're going to need to think of someway to make up the cash."
"Well," began the bird, "we could sell the horse for glue. She's the one who started the whole mess."
"No," stated Jalan. Clest was HIS horse.
"We could wire the palace for money."
"ABSOLUTLY NOT!"
Iago shrugged. "Well then, why don't we..."
"Excuse me, sirs. You are looking for work, yes?" A man's shadow fell across the table, his voice cutting Iago's off in mid-sentence. Iago fumbled for a minute, trying to recover.
"We... Want a cracker! Awk!" he finished lamely.
"It is alright, little one," said the man. "We are alike, your master and I." He stepped into the light. His face was old, but kindly and he wore a smile. He reached into one of his hidden pockets and pulled out a small medallion. Jalan's eyes widened in recognition.
The Medallion of the Order - a symbol given to mages that passed The Test and earned the rank of High Mage. Jalan was only an apprentice and had not taken The Test yet. Of course, he was still very young. He stood up and bowed to the elder mage, who inclined his head. Iago made no move. He didn't like being called "little one."
"Please, sir, join us at our table," invited Jalan. Once the elder mage was seated, Jalan retook his seat and motioned for a barmaid. Jalan picked up the tab on a round of drinks with the money Iago had earned. The parrot glowered at his master.
"My name is Ariulen and as you have already realized, I am a High Mage." Ariulen took a long sip of the tea Jalan had ordered him and he then continued. "You are looking for a way to earn money, Jalan?"
"Yes, sir. I am," responded Jalan. In the back of his mind, a little voice screamed at him. How did the High Mage know his name? There were hundreds of lowly sorcerers like himself, all with grandiose dreams of one day attaining power and status. Jalan ignored that voice. An even louder one was cheering the fact that a High Mage knew his name.
Ariulen nodded slowly at sat quietly at the table for a long while, as if considering something. Iago and Jalan exchanged glances, wondering what had made him go solemn. Suddenly, the elder mage sighed heavily and reached into his robes and pulled out a small paper flyer. Scanning it slowly, the mage bit his lip and shook his head. He handed it over to Jalan.
"There is a town not far from here that is having some... problems with the supernatural," began Ariulen.
"Supernatural?" asked Jalan. There were many kinds of supernatural beings around. It all came of living in a world so indubed with magic.
The elder mage shrugged. "I don't know the details. You'll have to go to the town and find out what the job is for your self."
Jalan read the flyer out loud for Iago, who was looking at him curiously from the other side of the table. "'Town of Shikyo Kokyou is invested with supernatural beings. The members of this town seek the skilled to help our citizens escape the plague that hunts us. See The Mayor for more details. Pay is negotiable.' That's it." stated Jalan, looking up. "But we are not warriors. I am mearly a low-level mage. I don't think I could help a town against a plague of supernatural beings."
"Yeah, and there's no definite pay," noted Iago, not looking forward to an evening with anything of the supernatural category.
Ariulen lowered his eyes. "I'm afraid I lied to you, Jalan. I do know the extent of this mission. Tell me," he began, looking up to meet Jalan's eyes, "how old are you?"
"Twenty-five, sir."
The High Mage nodded. "You are young and gifted in the art. More gifted than many I have ever met. You already have summoned a familiar. Most mages can't do that until their thirtieth year."
This came as a surprise to Jalan, who had found the spell in an old book of his Master's more than a year ago. His Master, The Great Romundula, had passed away almost three years ago. Jalan had continued to educate himself in the art, being unable to travel to find a new master. He was already too entrapped in the web of court life and working as the Sultan's advisor to go off on some merry jaunt. Being trapped at the palace, he had only taken short, but informative trips around the globe using the roads of magic. His collection of magical artifacts and source books already rivaled those of some of the great libraries in even such far magical countries as that one with the magical king whose mood controlled the weather. Not having had much contact with other Mages his age, he was surprised to learn he had surpassed some of them.
"I would not have given you this mission if I did not think you could handle it, Jalan," continued the elder mage, startling Jalan out of his thoughts. Jalan nodded.
"Then I will take the mission," replied Jalan, ignoring Iago's groan of protest. He stood up and bowed lowly to the High Mage. "I do not mean to be rude, but if I am going to travel to Shikyo Kokyou tomorrow..."
"Yes, yes. Then you must rest." The mage stood up slowly and took Jalan's hand in his own, holding it tightly. He stared at Jalan's face, particularly his eyes, studying him carefully. After a moment he released the mage's hand and sat back down at the table, staring into his drink. Jalan watched him for a moment, then started up stairs.
"Iago? You coming?" asked Jalan, looking back at his friend.
"In... in a moment, Jalan," replied the parrot. He was watching Ariulen with a thoughtful expression.
"Don't be too late."
"Yes, Jalan." Iago continued to watch the mage. Once he was certain Jalan was out of earshot, he hopped across the table and got right in Ariulen's face.
"What are you sending him into?" he asked harshly. The elder mage said nothing. "Tell me!"
Ariulen looked up and glared at Iago. "You would do better to show some respect to your superiors, familiar."
"You are not my superior. Neither is Jalan. He is my friend. So, I want to know what you are planning on doing to him."
"I am not in charge," answered the mage slowly. "This goes beyond me. Jalan is special, Iago. You know it just as well as I." The mage took Iago's silence as an affirmative.
"I don't care," said the parrot after a moment. "But if he is hurt, I will NEVER forgive you." Iago began to fly upstairs, but was stopped by the mage's voice.
"Any choice he makes from this point on is his own, Iago," called the mage. He watched Iago pause a moment before flying up the stairs. The mage turned back to his drink.
"He is a strong soul, Iago," he whispered to himself, "and you are a loyal friend, more loyal than most familiars. He is The Diamond in the Rough." Ariulen clutched his drink tightly. Too tightly, for the cup shattered in his hands, cutting them to ribbons. Blood flowed from him and mingled with the tea on the table.
To be continued...
Copyright S. Califf, Feb. 2000