Author's Note: So I haven't updated in... a while. As in a while, a while. I can't give a valid excuse, my only explanation is a killer bout of writer's block coupled with pure laziness.
This chapter was written without my beta going over the final, final draft. So if it seems kind of ..meh, I'm sure that's why. ^^;
Chapter Two: Under New Management
Isra' wasn't sure when, but sometime during the night she managed to fall asleep in the cramped, dank space of the dungeon. Her eyes slowly opened and she groaned when a sharp pain shot through her back as she sat up. She surveyed her surroundings through heavy-lidded eyes; mystified at first as to how she got there. But the memory of the previous night's events came rushing back in the form of a particularly nasty headache.
Ignoring the pain in her temples and back, Isra' rose, crossed the short distance to the cell's cage door and gripped its cold bars. She tried to rattle it in order to test its sturdiness but the door barely budged. Her eyes flickered over to the cell's lock and she reached out a hand to touch it. As soon as her skin made contact with the piece of metal, it emitted a strange blue jolt of energy that gave her a slight shock. She quickly retracted her arm to nurse her singed fingers.
"Magic," she muttered, glaring at the lock as the blue light around it buzzed and crackled.
Once the glow faded Isra' gave another hopeful pull at the bars. But when that provided no results she took to looking around her cell. It was small, with barely enough room for her to walk around in. She studied the row of cells across from her and – even in the dim light of the torches attached to the wall – noticed they were considerably larger than the one she was thrown into.
The only window was on the other side of the dungeon and at least ten feet from the ground and getting to it would be impossible. There was no way out. Isra' had managed to successfully escape capture and imprisonment up until now and the thought of what could possibly happen to her was becoming unnerving.
The sound of an opening door jostled Isra' out of her thoughts and she jerked her head up to see the young sorcerer approaching. When he reached her, he stood in front of her cell with his arms folded and an amused expression on his face.
"Did our little prisoner have a good night's sleep?" Mozenrath asked in a faux concerned drawl.
"Good night's sleep," Xerxes parroted, snickering fiendishly from his place on Mozenrath's shoulder.
Isra' scowled at the both of them. "Let me go."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Mozenrath replied. "You see, I don't like trespassers. Usually if some poor soul is foolish enough to enter my lands, they are disposed of immediately. But I think I can find some use of you.
"I plan on becoming the ruler of the Seven Deserts," he further explained. "And while my magic is powerful, it isn't enough to take on such a task alone. That is why I look for magical artifacts to aid me in my quest. They're easy enough to locate but often hard to get hold of. You are going to retrieve them for me."
"And what do I get in return?" Isra' wasn't one to do a job for free, even if it was a job for a crazed sorcerer currently held her prisoner.
"You get to live," he replied, accentuating his remark by threateningly lifting his glowing gauntlet.
Isra' flinched back. "When do I start?"
"Right now actually," he answered, unlocking the cage door. Isra' stepped out of the cell and Mozenrath tossed her satchel at her. As soon as she caught the leather bag she quickly opened and searched it. To her relief, everything – beside the ring – was still there.
"You will be going after the Yursemite Hand in Upanistan," Mozenrath explained. "It's in the treasure room of the city's palace. You'll know it when you see it; it's a golden hand. If you can acquire it, I will allow you to live in the citadel and continue working for me. But if you fail, well, let's just say… don't fail. The penalty for stealing from the palace in Upanistan is death."
Isra' nodded her understanding as she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. "I'm not familiar with those lands so I'll need a map. And a horse as well; my previous one ran away. …What?" she asked him tensely.
Mozenrath was staring at her with a raised eyebrow and the corners of his mouth were turned down. "Nothing, nothing," he said dismissively. "It's just that…my, how to put this."
"W-what?! What is it?" Isra' pressed on. She was quickly becoming annoyed with him.
"Are you always this unprepared? I mean… a map, a horse? I don't see how it's my problem you don't have any of these things. Silly me. I thought – being such an expert and all – you'd be able to do this without my help."
"Thief no good?" Xerxes asked, shaking his head.
"It appears so," Mozenrath sighed.
Isra's eyes narrowed. If there was one thing she did not appreciate, it was having her abilities questioned. At that instant all of her logic went out of the nearest window – she knew this was payback for the little stunt she pulled earlier with his amulet. The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think to stop them.
"Fine! You want the stupid hand? I'll get it. And I won't need a map or a horse! In fact, I'll have it back here tonight."
"Tonight?" He sounded somewhat unimpressed.
"This afternoon!" she curtly corrected.
Mozenrath smirked. "If you insist." He waved his gauntlet covered hand and a cloud of black smoke appeared in midair in front of them. It quickly dissipated and in its place a magic portal materialized. "The palace is just past the city's market place. Come back to this spot when you've retrieved the hand."
Isra' peered through the portal and with surprise noticed that it lead straight into the city of Upanistan. She hesitantly placed her foot into the portal but was reassured when it touched firm ground. She stepped through, amazed at the power the gauntlet provided despite the fact that she despised its owner.
"And remember," Mozenrath called out after her. "I'll be keeping a close eye on you. So don't get any stupid ideas, like trying to run away."
Isra' inwardly cursed, as that was exactly what she had planned to do. She pulled her veil over the bottom half of her face to hide her irritated expression. "Wish me luck," she muttered sarcastically as the portal disappeared.
With a huff, she set off towards the cluster of large tents: the marketplace. It was noisy; filled with the sights and sounds of people going about their morning tasks. With her small stature and commonplace clothing, Isra' raised no alarm and blended in easily with the crowds. No one even noticed she had literally appeared out of nowhere. As she made her way through the throng of people, vendors shouted at her to take a look at the goods they had for sale. But none of the perfumes, jewelry or clothing interested her so she kept moving with her head low.
However, she did quickly snatch a shiny red apple as she passed a fruit stand without its vendor noticing. The pains in her stomach reminded her that she hadn't eaten since her almost-botched job in Agrabah. She was famished. And she figured some food would also help with her headache.
Just as she brought the fruit to her mouth and bit down she heard a small voice. "M-Money for food?"
Isra' stopped. She wasn't sure where the voice came from and for a second thought she had imagined it. But looking down she saw a young boy who didn't look much older than seven. He was dressed in grimy rags and his face, hands and bare feet were covered with dirt. She studied the child from under her hood, not moving and not speaking. After a few seconds and no response, the boy sighed heavily and moved to walk away but stopped when Isra' reached into her satchel. He looked up at her hopefully and grinned widely when she handed him a small bag of gold coins.
"Thank you," he said, bowing. He then turned and bounded down a nearby alleyway towards a pathetic looking hovel wedged between two other equally pathetic looking shacks. Isra' quickly finished her apple and continued her journey to soon find herself at the palace gates. She gazed up at the towering white stone walls. It was too high to even consider climbing as an option.
"State your business," a deep voice barked.
It was the gates' guard who spoke. He was a brute of a man; towering, burly and intimidating.
Isra' dropped her voice an octave lower in the hopes of making it sound at least slightly masculine. "I am a messenger from a kingdom in a land far away. My king sent me to deliver a message to your sultan. It is a matter of great importance that requires his attention immediately."
To further back up her lie Isra' pulled out a rolled up parchment, being careful to keep her very female clothing hidden under her cloak. The parchment had a golden seal on it that Isra' hoped the guard would believe to be of royal origins. Truthfully, Isra' had no idea where the scroll came from or what was even written on it. She stole it off of a seedy looking merchant during her visit to the Thieves' Guild. She was told that it was very valuable and planned to resell it at a much higher price, whether its value was true or not.
Isra's heart nearly stopped when the guard came closer and attempted to get a better look at her hidden face.
"Are you sure you are a man?" he asked, reaching for her hood.
Isra' ducked out of the way. "O-of course I am!" she insisted, trying to put on a tougher sounding voice.
The guard didn't respond but instead folded his arms over his large barrel chest. It was quite obvious he didn't believe her story and was not letting her through.
"It is very unfortunate that you do not believe me. I will have to explain to my king that your sultan does not wish to have an audience with me. Such disgrace …what an uproar this will cause." Isra' put the scroll away, shook her head sadly and turned on her heels.
Five, four, three, two…
"Wait."
Isra' stopped and smirked behind her veil. She turned back to the guard. "Yes?"
If the thieving business ever stopped being lucrative, she was sure she would be able to get a job with travelling actors and performers.
He seemed to internally battle with himself momentarily before he finally gave in. "You may pass." He stepped aside and pulled a lever on the wall. There was a clunking sound as the tall palace gates slowly opened.
"Thank you, sir. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated," Isra' said with a bow as she passed him.
"Yeah, yeah," he said, waving his hand dismissively.
Isra' managed to sneak her way into the palace while successfully remaining unnoticed. She crept through the large halls of the palace, making sure to keep close to the walls and within the shadows. She found tricking the guard to be surprisingly easy but knew the next step in her plan would not be as effortless. She still had to get to the treasure room, get the hand and get out… all without being caught. And on top of that she wasn't familiar with the layout of this palace, so she hadn't the slightest idea as to where the sultan's treasures were kept.
Isra' halted.
In her moment of realization she slapped a hand to her forehead and silently berated herself. How was she supposed to steal a precious, ancient artifact if she didn't even know where it was?
At that moment, there was approaching footsteps which prompted Isra' to sink further into the shadows. The person stopped just a few feet away from where Isra' was crouched behind a pillar. "I know you're there; no point in hiding anymore."
Thinking it better to not pretend she hadn't heard him, Isra' slowly slunk out from her hiding place.
The thin, bearded man gave her a once over, apparently not amused. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the guards and have you executed right now."
Isra' gulped. 'Think fast, think fast.' "Uh, because if I'm executed… I wouldn't be able to… Are you satisfied with your line of work, sir?"
Taken aback by the sudden change in the conversation's direction, he sputtered, "W-what?"
"You seem to be the kind of man that deserves the finer things in life. But I'm sensing you're discontent."
He frowned. "Well…"
Seeing her opening, Isra' pounced. "Just as I suspected um... what did you say your name was, again?"
Forgetting that he never offered his name, the man replied, "Rabi."
"Rabi, my good man, you're the Royal Vizier, am I correct?" When he nodded, Isra' continued with a nod of her own. "But to me it seems you're not being treated as the Royal Vizier. I've seen peasants with more jewelry. And forgive me, but those robes look out of date. Where I come from, the sultan's vizier has everything: fame, power, women... his own treasury."
"Interesting," he said, rubbing his chin in though. "Which lands do you hail from?"
"Uh, that's not important," Isra' said, waving dismissively. "The point is, he's got all that stuff and you don't. At least, I'm assuming you don't."
A look of resentment flashed across Rabi's face. "No, I do not. But what do you propose I do about it?"
"Well if it were me, I would go up to the sultan and demand my rightful pay. After all, I'm sure this is a very stressful job and one would have to be sick in the head to do it for nearly nothing."
"You are right, I will go there now."
He began to walk in the direction he came from but Isra' stopped him with her hand planted firmly on his chest. "But first," she said. "Why not go into the treasury and take a few rubies and sapphires? Show him you know what you deserve and you're not afraid to take it."
"That is an excellent idea, my friend. Come, let us go. I think you deserve a small cut, for showing me the light." Isra' almost leapt for joy but kept her expression neutral and controlled. "You know, I've always felt I deserved better. Even as a child," Rabi lamented, leading the way.
"Tell me all about it," she smirked, following close behind.
The sight she was met with left her in awe. Mountains of gold and jewels, numerous chests filled with glittering treasures and trinkets. Isra' was so caught up in the scenery that she almost forgot the job she was sent here to do.
With a quick scan around the room, Isra' spotted a golden, ruby encrusted scepter. It looked heavy. She lifted it and – while Rabi was busy rambling on about the unfairness that was his life – brought it down over his head. The force was just enough to knock him out without doing any grievous harm. Hopefully.
Isra' discarded the makeshift weapon and searched for the artifact she was starting to hope had the ability to turn sand into gold with all the trouble it was causing her. And there it was – the Yursemite Hand – sitting prettily on a wooden table along with various other jeweled trinkets. Just as Isra' expected it was a small hand-shaped golden statuette. She reached out to grab it but stilled. Was it booby trapped? Surely a treasure this valuable would have some level of security. She figured she had no other way of finding out, so Isra' gently picked up the hand and placed it into her satchel. So far, so good.
Isra' was about to leave when she decided that she deserved a little something for herself. Mozenrath certainly wasn't planning on paying her for her troubles so she began to scoop a generous amount of gold coins and various gems into her satchel and pockets.
As she was putting away the last handful of coins, the treasure room's doors were thrown open. In the doorway stood the palace guard who did not look happy; in fact he looked down-right livid. His eyes were narrowed, his mouth was set into a grimace so deep it looked painful and his face was turning an interesting shade of purple. Standing beside him was another man, the sultan Isra' presumed from the way he was dressed in lavish robes and excessive jewelry. But there was something eerily off about this man… as though something was missing.
Ah, right.
His head.
For reasons unknown to Isra' the man before her was without a doubt completely decapitated. Yet he somehow managed to still be alive. But Isra' didn't have time to ponder the strange and truthfully sickening sight before the headless sultan lifted his arm. Isra' cursed loudly as she jumped out of the way of the sudden barrage of energy blasts aimed directly at her. She was able to dodge most of them but the last came uncomfortably close and managed to completely disintegrate the bottom half of her cloak.
Groaning, she grabbed a nearby silver-plated shield and held it out in front of her just as the headless sultan threw another blast at her. The blast ricocheted off of the shield and hit both the sultan and the guard, knocking them off guard and onto the floor. Taking the opportunity, she jumped out of the nearest window, climbed down a few storeys and hopped from rooftop to rooftop, back to the magic portal waiting for her.
Mozenrath smirked, pleased, as he passed the artifact from one hand to the other. "Well, well. It seems you're not a useless as I initially thought. It also seems you've got a soft spot for street rats," he said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.
Isra looked up at him wide-eyed from her place on the stone floor where she landed as soon as she jumped through the portal. She could feel her cheeks grow warm. "You saw that?"
"Of course I did. I'll have to remember that piece of information. It might prove useful in the future." But before Isra' could question what he meant, Mozenrath continued. "You'll be shown to your new living accommodations. I'd advise you to get some rest. You're going to need it."
