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Chapter 11: To the Victor Goes the Spoils
(First Ending)
The surprise came when she walked unsteadily back into the throne room. Her eyes became a lit with surprise when she saw Chaos curled up on the throne, Xerxes squirming underneath his paw. Chaos looked up and smiled.
"So, you have beaten the Minotaur," Chaos chimed, "Though it got a little one-sided as soon as you started beating his head against that pillar, you and Mozenrath have certainly entertained me."
Dhandi doesn't reply, but rather she sat down on the floor. She wiped her bloody nose with her sleeve. Chaos leapt off the throne, Xerxes still bewildered from this encounter with the feline Incarnation. Dhandi could feel the cat's wings rubbing against her.
"You're usually more talkative than this," Chaos said.
"Is he gonna...you know?" Dhandi asked, turning towards Chaos. "I mean, I didn't really mean to-"
"Who can predict," the cat replied, "but if he does wake up, I imagine he'll think twice of underestimating the both of us."
Dhandi sighed, smiling slightly. "I still gotta figure out of I'm going to get out of here. I mean, I can't really expect to suddenly vanish-"
Before she could finish her sentence, in a swirl of sky blue smoke and magic, the individuals within the sanctum vanished as the throne room began to spin and mix in upon itself, until it no longer resembled its former state, now looking like a mixture of different colored paints stirred in a bucket.
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"Come back here!" Rasoul growled at Amin, roughly grabbing and tossing him towards his underlings in the alley. Halim screamed as Amin held on tightly. "A failed kidnapping; oh, it's the executioner's block for you."
Amin whimpered frightened. He was going to die and it was for something he didn't even do, though the moment he had set his feet back on to the more benign sands of this city he had pondered ransoming the babe. He began bawling louder than Halim, when he heard-
"Amin!" Dhandi ran towards the guards and their detainee, barefoot and out of breath. "Oh, Amin. I'm so sorry I put you through this. You were so brave when that man tried to kill me and Halim!"
Rasoul looked at her suspiciously.
"Well," Dhandi turned towards him, "I was trying to calm Halim in the alley and then this...horrible man came and grabbed me."
"This man?" Rasoul pointed to Amin who had turned pale.
"Him? Oh, oh, no!" Dhandi continued to lie in an astonished tone. "Amin was trying to save me, but I gave Halim to him so that he could take him back to the palace while I fought the other man off. I finally got away from him when I threw my sandals at him." She lifted her foot and pointed to it. "I was trying to find Amin, but the man took me to a part of the city I didn't know very well, so I got lost."
Rasoul glanced at Amin who weakly smiled and then at Dhandi who smiled innocently.
"That may be all and good," Rasoul said gruffly, "but he is still a thief with several counts of theft and one for...turning the Sultan into gold."
Dhandi was bewildered by this. Since when did Amin learned magic? Was he really smarter than he had let on? Amin stuck a finger in his ear, pulled out a small blob of earwax upon the tip of his finger and smelled it. All thoughts of the thief possessing a much higher intellect fled from her at that moment.
"True," she continued, "but doesn't our faith believe that a good deed can outweigh a bad one?"
"Faith maybe," Rasoul replied roughly as he yanked Halim from Amin's arms and placed the babe into the girl's, "but not the law." The guards slapped upon the thief's wrists irons.
Dhandi frowned as the guards turned away, dragging Amin. She looked around and, holding Halim close, began to scream.
"Heeeeeeeeellllllllllp!" she shrieked, Halim began to bawl as well. The guards turned around. "That man found me! He's over there by the barrels!" Her finger shot up and pointed towards the barrels in the alley. "Oh, Merciful Allah! He's come back for Halim!"
Rasoul and the guards ran over there, dropping Amin who was still in irons. Amin looked around and, with a look of reassurance from the girl, slid the irons off his bony arms. He got up to his feet and began to run off in the opposite direction. The shouts of guards could be heard as Dhandi took a step back and watched nonchalantly as Rasoul and his company ran through the streets, searching for Amin deMoolah. Dhandi looked at Halim who had stopped crying and was lying contented in his sitter's arms. She stole a glance at her hand, the black veins of henna fading away against her tanned skin.
"Let's go find your mommy," she whispered to Halim as she turned and walked towards where the palace dominated the skyline.
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Mozenrath groaned as he slowly rose, rubbing his head gingerly. However, he found that he began to slide down. He soon found the reason why as he grabbed on to the railing and dangled from the black onion-shaped dome of the Citadel, several hundreds of feet up. He shut his eyes, vertigo setting in and felt around for something to stand upon with the tips of his boots. Fortunately for him, a ridge of bricks stuck out from the chipped plaster, just above a window. The sorcerer lowered himself upon the ridge and surveyed his surroundings. Indeed, he was back in his own lands, but questions arose in his bruised head, mainly "when and how did I get back". However, one thought lingered. He sneered as he recalled the events, how at a raise of her hand the child was able beat him against the pillars.
He remembered his past lessons, the importance of verbal commands in spells, but more importantly, that the words themselves were powerful, that a single word can bind one person to another, even without the aid of blood and enchanted vapors.
...that's why you will always be considered to me as Amir... He clenched his fists furiously. That stupid girl and the fact that he gave her that name upon her hand aggravated him further. He stared at his hand, scowling at the black mehandi like they were varicose veins. He sighed and waved his gauntlet over his palm, the henna-ed lines lifting up towards the glove like pieces of metal to a magnet. He then held the gauntlet flat at eye level and blew; the powder that the lines have been reduced to caught the wind and flew away.
I won't let her take advantage of me again, Mozenrath thought to himself as he climbed down to the window. She won't be able to next time.
Suddenly, something jabbed at his brain.
"Xerxes?"
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Somewhere within a fortress, Xerxes was tensely fighting off the advances of a starving calico.
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Amin deMoolah stumbled clumsily into a dark bar, populated by very surly clientele. Running from the guards for five hours had led him to familiar streets and, unfortunately, familiar faces who, in the five years he was imprisoned, kept grudges towards him. Amin nursed his bruised cheek as he sat down at a low table. Freedom didn't taste very sweet for this thief. Even in the Chaotic Plains, he had learned to cope with it, but now, even in what he considered his element, he was having trouble re-adjusting.
"Hey, Butterfingers!" the portly barkeep barked from behind his post. Amin cringed and turned to the barkeep.
"My name is NOT Butterfingers!" he hollered, indignantly.
"Whatever," the barkeep only shrugged. "Somebody left sumthing up here for youse." Amin got up from his seat and staggered up to the bar. The barkeep plopped a small parcel, loosely wrapped in cheesecloth, in front of the thief. Amin inspected it before slowly unfolding the cheesecloth. His eyes widen with surprise and delight at the wedge of pie, revealed. The warm aroma of spices and fruit fused between the two layers of flaky crust seduced his nostrils. His mouth began to water when he noticed a big bite mark on the side of the wedge.
"Hey!" he complained, looking suspiciously at the barkeep. The barkeep shrugged, scrapping crumbs from his beard.
"What? How could I let a piece of pie lie there, especially with those juicy bits of persimmon in there? You just don't get stuff like that downtown. Whoever your benefactor is,they has good tastes."
Amin looked at the wedge again. Even with a bite taken out of it, it still looked good, especially it being the first piece he'd seen in many years. Looking around first, he grabbed the pie and stuffed it all in his mouth. He moaned happily, crumbs scattering into his beard along with a good amount of saliva and pie juices. Swallowing the pie, he searched himself for something to wipe his mouth.
Feeling something stuffed in his shirt, he reached in and pulled out a pink scarf, or rather the remains of a pink scarf. For a few minutes, he stared blankly at the mess of yarn, trying to connect two thoughts together, which was a mighty task for one with a single digit IQ. Suddenly, the hooting and wolf-whistling of surrounding patrons broke his train of thought.
"Nice scarf! Meeting your boyfriend later on, Butterfingers?"
The End
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A/N: That is the "happy ending" ending if you haven't already guessed. Next chapter is different, I promise, for those who didn't like this slice of happy pie or did like this, but would like to see another interpretation. Happy pie? What the? Okay, no excuses. On to the next chapter and please, leave a review.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters; otherwise I wouldn't be bagging groceries for tips.