I'm really angry at myself. I had every intention of updating this weekend to give you guys time to read, but I left my notebook with half the chapter in it on my desk at work. I wrote the end of this a while ago, and I thought it was as home, so I didn't bother bringing the notebook home after typing up the first part on my lunch break on Friday. Then, after tearing up my office and cursing profusely, I realized I was mistaken, and the other half was in fact in the notebook and not on one of my legal pads at home. Needless to say I was pissed, but I managed to get this finished on my lunch break today.
I was very excited to FINALLY get to this chapter, but I feel disappointed with the result. I'm worried b/c I wrote it in pieces, it feels too thrown together and compartmentalized. So, I apologize if it feels choppy.
Lastly, a shout out to Ohsupernaturall for help with translations, and in general, making me feel better about all my insecurities.
Enjoy the beginning of the end, my friends.
Two guards opened the doors to the Sultana's study as the Prince Consort approached. Inside, the five who men sat around the table all stood as he entered the room. Choosing not to sit, he stood next to Jasmine's seat at the head of the table. He did so partly from the fact that it just did not feel right to sit in her chair, to take her place — he wanted her absence to be felt. He had always stood at her side when ruling, and having to serve in her stead made that no different. This was her kingdom, and it always would be.
The other reason was that as long as he remained standing, the others could not sit. That was a trick he had learned from his wife. She had employed it in negotiations when she was dealing with particularly difficult people. Of course, she would parlay that power move into a means of making her demands. He didn't have the steel embedded in his wife's veins to pull off such a bold move, but at least they would see they weren't dealing with a complete amateur here.
All their eyes were on him, waiting. Words escaped him. What was he supposed to do now?
Across the table, a map of the city was spread and marked by his own hand to indicate the areas most affected by the sickness. He stared at it blankly, hoping something would come to mind. He hadn't planned out what needed to be discussed, nor had he come here with a list of tasks to be dictated and delegated. He had been more than happy to be her boots on the ground in the city, but in this capacity, he felt woefully unprepared. A sense of awkwardness loomed as the council members waited anxiously to hear whatever he was going to say. If only he knew.
"If I may, Your Highness?" Hakim asked, throwing him out a lifeline. "Many of us are anxious to hear how the Sultana is fairing."
He offered Hakim a grateful half smile. "Sleeping mostly. Her fever persists, but she was able to speak with me for a few moments this morning."
"Elhamd le Allah! Allahu Ackbar!" Ibrahim declared, raising both his hands up one each side of his head in praise.
"We all know of the Sultana's unparalleled strength." Jibril added. "I know the odds of recovery better than anyone, but I remain hopeful."
"Yes, each of us prays for the restored health of our Sultana," Navid agreed. "Just the same, as for the fate of our sovereign, Allah aalam. We must consider the circumstances in which we find ourselves."
Perhaps it was just the scattered state of his mind, but Aladdin wasn't following.
"What do you mean?" Aladdin asked as dull ache began to creep in between his eyes.
"I'm sure I speak for everyone when I wish the Sultana a quick recovery." The word wish tugged menacingly at Aladdin's gut. "Yet, it is prudent of us to prepare for the worst."
"There is no need to catastrophize," Ibrahim said. "As you said, it is in the hands of Allah, and we are not privy to his grand design."
"It would be irresponsible of us to ignore the reality of the situation, blinded by false hope." Navid countered. "The facts are these: The Sultana is deathly ill, and while we all know the Prince Consort to be a capable and noble leader, he was not raised nor schooled to be Sultan. Even once Sultan Hamed returns from his diplomatic mission to Shirabad, we still face a potential crisis — the Sultan will not live forever and the Sultana does not have an heir."
"That may be, but it is irrelevant to the purpose of this council!" Hakim warned. "We were called upon by our sovereign in Agrabah's time of need to offer our expertise in handling the plague, not sorting out the future of the crown."
"Hakim! Open your eyes!" Navid shouted. "We are the hands holding up Agrabah. I think the purview of this council has well exceeded managing the plague. Are we to sit idle while our country grows as sickly and weak as our wreckless Sultana?"
A fist slammed down onto the table, scattering all the markers placed on the map, sending them to roll about. Five sets of wide eyes met Aladdin's in the silence that followed.
"The last time a man spoke of controlling my wife's throne, I had a personal hand in the curse that befell him." The Prince's tone was measured, but his mahogany eyes were aflame. "Clearly, that was not enough of a deterrent, so to what extent will I have to increase the next punishment to discourage usurpers? ...Or, are you so naive as to believe there are lines I will not cross when it comes to protecting my wife and my kingdom?" Aladdin leaned forward, both hands flat on the table, as if it were the only obstacle keeping him from crawling across it and throttling Navid. "She is Agrabah's ruler, but I am it's protector, a role I do not take lightly. While I am serving as regent, I will do whatever is necessary to protect this country, even from itself."
Staring down Navid, he pushed away from the table to stand at full height again. Inside, he felt imbued with a renewed sense of audacity he had not felt since he was scraping by on the streets. The absence of that steely resolve he had lamented when he had entered the study now filled him with renewed determination at Navid's words. Jasmine had treasured the respect these men had shown and the trust they had given her. Yet, as to be expected in a society who undervalued women, in her first moment of weakness, Navid had leaped at the opportunity to undermine her. Did the other three feel the same way? Had they all just waiting for the opportunity to strike?
"Until further notice, this council is disbanded, and you are dismissed," Aladdin growled as he narrowed his gaze on the map again, refusing to meet their eyes.
"Your Highness, you misunderstand... I— "Navid tried weakly.
"I said go."
A beat passed before it seemed to truly register that the Prince Consort had truly given them leave, and slowly Jibril, Ibrahim, Navid, and Hakim moved. As he heard the doors shut, he dropped ungracefully Jasmine's chair. Collapsing his face into his hands, Aladdin fought the urge to scream. Anger was boiling beneath his skin, tightening his chest. How dare Navid. Jasmine was fighting for her life just a floor above their heads, and he had the arrogance to decree they should be given the right to run Agrabah.
"My prince?"
A hand on his upper arm startled the anger out of him. Hakim stood just to his left, his hand still hovering just above Aladdin's arm. In his fury, Aladdin hadn't noticed he had stayed behind.
"My apologies for disturbing you," he bowed his head.
"What is it, Hakim?" He spat, no patience left, even for his Captain of the Guard.
"On the day of Jafar's coup, my loyalty was tested, and I was found wanting. To this day, I still carry guilt knowing that had our esteemed Sultana not stood so bravely against him, I would have thrown my lot in with Jafar. Never again do I want the royal family to question where my loyalty lies. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Even I was intimidated by Jafar's remarkable show of power, but I have learned the harsh lesson that power and authority are very different things, and only the worthy are capable of wielding both. There are no two people I deem more worthy than the Sultana and her Prince."
Fist to his chest, he saluted. But, oblivious to anything after Hakim's personal confession, and as unintentionally dismissive as it was, Aladdin's head was already spiraling in another direction.
...power and authority are very different things, and only the worthy are capable of wielding both.
Aladdin had authority. He'd been given title and privilege, and lived with an entire palace at his beck and call. Through Hakim, he had the backing of an entire army of soldiers and guards. He had the trust of the people. Now, for the second time in his life, he had been considered worthy.
Worthy of power. Worthy of magic. A terrible plan formed in Aladdin's head.
"Thank you, Hakim," Aladdin clapped the man on the back. "Thank you."
As he rushed out of the room, he didn't even bother to answer the man's shouted question of where he was going. Jasmine was still asleep when he entered the bedroom. Maryam and Nasreen jumping up as he burst through the door.
"How did it go?" Maryam asked.
"Everything alright?" Nasreen squinted at him cautiously.
Dropping down on his side of the bed, he fished around until his hands touched the books he had stashed there the day prior. Climbing up on the bed, he crawled over the tangle of sheets, pressing a soft kiss to Jasmine's forehead, the heat of her fever warm against his lips.
"I'm going to fix everything." He whispered. "Just hang on for me."
Jumping off the bed, he dashed over to this wardrobe, pulling out articles of clothing until he located his satchel. Dropping the books inside, he grabbed it and a change of clothes before disappearing into the bathing room.
"Your highness?" Nasreen called from just outside the doorway. "Are you feeling well yourself?"
When he appeared again, he had shed all the trappings of his princely visage. Dressed in more common clothing, the stachel slung over his shoulder, he looked reminiscent of the boy from the street whose satchel would have been filled with stolen goods rather than spellbooks.
"For the first time in a long time, I feel like myself." He replied, handing off the stack of folded princely garments literally crowned with his turban to a confused Nasreen.
"Stay with Jasmine. There's something important I have to do."
"Of course," She nodded. "Take care of whatever you need. We'll be here as long as you need."
Shouting his thanks, he ran from the room like a madman, barreling down the stairs. Descending deeper into the depths of the palace, retracing his steps from weeks ago, he veered from his objective only to collect a few bottles of lamp oil. Once again standing before the locked door in the dungeons, he made child's play of the lock, and it dropped to the ground in a cloud of dust.
Passing through the threshold, he set about lighting the room. Some small part of him was unsure whether this plan would work. He had intended to test out a few spells, to practice them until he felt confident actually attempting a ritual, but Jasmine's illness had accelerated his timeline now. Hakim was right — there was a difference between power and authority. If he was truly worthy, this would work, and he would have weapon against anyone who intended to take advantage of their weaknesses.
Unlike the other rituals he had studied, this one did not require things like a particularly timed moon phase or obscure ingredients to perform. As long as all the steps were observed in the proper order, and he was able to exert enough will to incite the ritual, in theory, this should work even without having performed a successful spell yet.
After all, all he was doing was summoning forth a part of himself.
Opening the djinn book to the correct page, he laid it out open on the work table. The word qareen taunted him between the lines of black calligraphy. Dragging his finger down the page, he made a mental list of the things he needed to find. Combing through the shelves, he retrieved the items, and laid them out next to the book.
Many of the books had warned of the need to set out protective measures. A summoning ritual was basically opening a door that didn't exist and hoping the right being would walk through. It was an open invitation for any being passing by at the right time. If the summoner was not careful, or neglected to close that door properly, anything could walk through. The stakes were too high, and Aladdin wasn't willing to take any chances.
On the opposite side of the chamber, Aladdin poured a ring of salt. Humans had used it as a purifying agent for generations, protecting and preserving more than just their meats. To a variety of metaphysical beings, salt was a natural repellent. He hoped it would discourage anything besides his intended quarry from wandering through the door, but just in case, it could be used to dispel the more vile, evil things that might find their way through. It would also serve to contain the being he summoned until he had managed to subdue it — until he was sure it would serve him.
Around the circle, he set a strange assortment of objects, using a compass to align them to the cardinal directions. To the north, he set a piece of polished lapis lazuli, as dark as the sky at twilight, representing the element of earth. To the east, he lit an incense burner, the winding plume of smoke dancing lazily out of the geometric shapes cut into the box, representing the element of air. To the south, he set a small, unlit, white candle, representing the element of fire. To the west, he placed a brightly colored tea glass with gilded filigree full of the most precious substance in the desert, representing the element of water.
Crouching down, he pressed his fingers to the salt ring, holding the book open in his other hand. Closing his eyes, he imagined a small light igniting in his chest. From the light, he drew energy, forcing his will, his intention into the white circle. In his mind, the ring began to glow like the spark in his chest.
"This circle will reflect. This circle will purify," he whispered, his intention clear and strong at the forefront of his mind. "This circle will protect. This circle will amplify."
And then, the ring in the floor started to glow like the image he had conjured in his mind. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a simple, iron ring.
"I call on the four elements to aid me in my task." He said, holding the ring in his closed fist, moving his hand to hover just above each of the objects he had set in the four cardinal directions. "Element of earth, I ask that you provide this being with substance and form." His hand moved over the objects with the calling of each element. "Element of air, I ask that you provide a mind for this being to comprehend. Element of water, I ask that you provide a soul for this being to feel." Then he stood, lighting a small scrap of dried wood upon the flame of one of the lamps, and returned it to the last object. "Element of fire, I ask for you to provide the spark of life so that this being may live."
The flame from the wood consumed the wax covered wick, exploding into a wide flame. With one final exertion of will, Aladdin closed his eyes and imagined a form coalescing in the circle before him. First, a small spark igniting in the air above the circle, swirling and warping until it formed the vague dark shape of a human being. Setting the ring in the center of the circle, he invoked the summoning.
"Companion, I call you forth to assist me in my time of need. Present yourself to your earthly master."
"As you wish…" replied a haunting, disembodied voice that sounded like a dozen simultaneous whispers as all the lamps extinguished at once.
Frozen, Aladdin's eyes darted through the inky blackness, searching for the source of the voice. Then, the light in the room began to rise, the flames returning slowly. When it illuminated the space enough to discern shapes, Aladdin could make out a whispy tail of smoke floating just above the circle.
The book fell from his hand with a thud in the sand. He examined the being, maintaining a threadbare but successful facade of confidence. It was like darkness personified — a djinn as black as night, semi-formed, caught between smokeless fire and near-humanity. Recessed in his shadow skin, silver eyes blinked back at him.
"Release me and I may serve you, master." It said.
"Not without this." Scooping up the ring from the center of the circle, he stood holding it aloft, the light of the flame glinting off its dull gray finish. "By the grace of Allah, this ring will bind your form and in turn bind you to me. No harm will come to anyone, nor will you act of your own accord without my consent. You will serve me faithfully and in good faith, without deception or manipulation. Should this oath be broken, the magic of this ring will disperse sending you back to the plane from which you come. Do you accept in exchange for your release?"
Wordlessly, the qareen lifted his hand offering his open palm. Placing the ring in the being's hand, the qareen took it and placed it on the middle finger of his right hand, never taking his eyes from Aladdin. When the ring settled onto the base of his finger, the qareen winced and writhed. A wave cascaded over the qareen, solidifying his form as it moved. His complexion paled as his form took shape, black hair falling across his brow. Materializing in a puff of smoke, black robes draped over his now tangible body. The qareen blinked, and the silver irises drained of their metallic sheen, filled by the deep, rich warm brown of Aladdin's eyes.
In a matter of seconds, staring back at him from within the circle was the near mirror-image of himself. And, it was smirking at him.
It was not a perfect replication though. The lines of its face and the angles of the shadows were sharper, harsher. Despite the transformation, dark circles still shaded the being's eyes and an aura of otherworldliness hung over it. There was something profoundly wrong and inherently comforting about it all at once.
Meeting the sunken, hollow looking eyes of his shadowy twin, Aladdin smiled victoriously. The qareen returned the smile, but it didn't reach its empty eyes. Stepping onto the line of salt, Aladdin pressed down and scratched out the solid line, breaking the circle. And with that, he released his qareen into the world. In a single step, it easily crossed over the broken line of salt.
"How may I serve you, master?"
Elhamd le Allah! Allahu Ackbar! - "Thank god! God is great!"
Allah aalam - Only Allah knows