Rasoul was surprised at about midnight by the Grand Vizier sweeping up to him, haggard and pale.

"Rasoul," he said hoarsely. "A physician is about to leave Lady Suzuki's chambers. I pray you use your discretion and kill him. No one is to know."

Rasoul was a little unpleasant, but he was loyal and efficient. "Yes, Vizier. I will do that now."

"Make it a quick death," Jafar hissed after him. "Make it an incognizant death. He has performed a strange service for me, and I would not wish him ill."

Having dealt with this, he stumbled to a lamp and tugged on the cord. It pained him briefly to note the lamp was influenced by the Oriental school of art, but he could not ponder long. The door grumbled open and he slid swiftly inside the secret passage, hurrying up the stairs to his laboratory.

Iago was waiting there, watching what looked suspiciously like a pile of swaddling. On closer inspection Jafar noticed a pile of black swaddling, and a pile of red.

Iago met his eyes. "Twins," he said simply.

Jafar sat down abruptly on the one piece of furniture in the lab. "No wonder she could not cope," he muttered to himself. "Japanese women have the narrowest of hips, and she was bearing Arabian twins- ah!" He stood up and walked over to his children, scooping them up into his arms awkwardly. Iago flapped sadly onto his shoulder. He was still crying gently.

"They- they're quite cute," Iago murmured. "Cootchie-coo?" The baby in black swaddling burped at him. "Human babies are disgusting," Iago announced.

Jafar laughed a tight, dry laugh. But at least it was a laugh, and it was infectious. The two started to laugh quite helplessly, until tears streamed down their faces and the dead stone walls echoed with the noise. He looked down at the twins, with something like affection in his face.

"The one in black is a boy," Iago explained. "The one in red is a girl."

"I could have worked that out," Jafar replied quietly. "Look, my daughter has her mother's finer bones, and her oval face and- see?- her almond eyes. Her eyes are so much more benign than my son's. You see my son's eyes? They are black instead of brown, and fathomless. You see how he has father's nose? It's a good nose."

The son yawned.

"Aw, look, he's got his father's attention span too!" Iago cooed.

"I will call the girl Basmah," Jafar said softly. "It means 'smile'. You see how perfect her mouth is?"

"Her mother would have liked that," Iago reflected sadly. "Yes, I see it. Then- you'll call the boy Talib?"

"'Seeker of the truth'," murmured Jafar. "Yes, we'll call him Talib. Talib and Basmah."

He jiggled his children cautiously. They seemed to like it, so he did it again. He gazed at them and they gazed back, mercilessly. He thought of Suzuki's corpse in her bedroom, drenched in red, lost to the world, the tiara still on her head. His daughter went to sleep, and his son gurgled.

"What am I going to do, Iago?" he asked helplessly. "What on earth am I going to do?"

((endness))