A Whole New World

by Liz Braswell

  “At what cost?” Aladdin asked. He pointed at the confused crowd beyond the balcony, still waiting to trash a palace or watch a wedding. Beyond them the war for the city was still going on. “You said you wanted a new Agrabah. A better Agrabah. Where people are free and the laws are just and everyone takes care of each other and no one slips through the cracks. That means everyone—even him. If you want to execute him, fine. Have a trial first. A public trial where everyone can see the law being carried out in the light. Don’t just murder him behind closed doors like this.”

  Jasmine didn’t look at Aladdin. She kept her eyes on Jafar. He was still sobbing; the dagger pressed into his neck so hard that beads of dark blood began to appear.

  “Please,” Aladdin whispered.

  Jasmine frowned.

  “Fine.” She finally relented.

  She swung the staff angrily and smashed it against the hourglass.

  The two magic items shattered together, sand and glass and wood and stone swirling around before disappearing.

  All that was left were the cobra’s two ruby eyes, spinning on the floor like marbles.

  Shirin and Ahmed sprang from their grandfather’s shoulders with exultant cries of relief. Maruf, a little unsteady on his feet, gave her a salute.

  Jasmine took a deep shuddering breath. But the rage was gone.

  She had almost killed a man in cold blood. Using black magic.

  She gave Aladdin a look. She didn’t have to say “you were right.”

  “I know how hard that was,” he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “But it was the right thing.”

  Jasmine shook her head, sighing. “I know. But we should—”

  Whatever Jasmine was about to say next was cut off as a streak of lightning, black as death, cut across the room and surrounded Jafar.

  “Jasmine may not have the heart to kill you, but I do!” Duban cried.

  Everyone turned to look. He stood triumphantly, Al Azif clutched in his hand. Ebon rips in the air whipped around him. A snarl of rage and hatred was plastered on his face.

  “This will finally put an end to your evil. Die, Jafar, the way you would have had my family die!”

  A howling wind rose up. The eye on the book blinked and rolled.

  Jafar began to choke.

  He wheezed and coughed and grasped his throat, unable to make a sound. A trickle of blood and sand came out the side of his mouth.

  Jasmine stepped away from him in horror, out of range of the magic. Aladdin and Morgiana watched Duban with shock and dismay.

  “Just…die already!” he growled.

  Shirin and Ahmed, so happy a moment ago, began to cry. The look on their uncle’s face was terrifying.

  But Jafar wasn’t quite done yet.

  He laughed a creaky, burbling laugh. Sprays of saliva and grains of sand and bubbles of blood flecked his black collar.

  “I still have one wish left, you fools.”

  Jasmine shook her head and spoke softly. “Jafar, it’s over. Try to find some peace. I’m not afraid of whatever it is you wish for. There will still be Street Rats left when you’re done. Someone will be able to take the lamp and have the genie undo everything that you’ve done.”

  Jafar kept laughing, but this time silently, weakly. He coughed and cleared his throat one last time.

  “Hear me, Genie. I wish…that when I die…all magic dies with me.”

  JAFAR’S CLOTHES FADED and seemed to shrink back in on themselves. No longer in his magically created sultan’s robes, he now lay in his old grand vizier uniform. Sand trickled and eddied around his body like it was already decaying in the desert.

  His voice grew ragged and weak. “The world…will forever be ordinary now. Good luck fixing everything in Agrabah without magic. You need it for happy endings, you know.…”

  With one more shuddering breath, he was gone.

  Before anyone could react to what had just happened, strange groans and horrible thunking noises came from the hallways.

  At first Aladdin was confused by the sound. Then he realized the truth: the ghouls were returning to their natural state. Dead. He closed his eyes, picturing Rasoul in the banquet hall. He wished he knew a proper prayer for all of them.

  There were shouts of confusion and then triumph outside beyond the balcony.

  “NO!” a strange voice shrieked.

  Everyone in the room turned to look at the genie.

  But he wasn’t there. In his place stood an ordinary-sized man with ordinary flesh and hair—though his skin still had a faint bluish tinge. He was looking at his arms, splaying out his fingers, twitching his toes.

  He snapped his fingers.

  Nothing happened.

  He pointed at a chair and murmured something.

  Nothing.

  A strangled cry came out of his throat.

  “Genie. You’re no longer…magical…” Jasmine said, her voice filled with pity. She came over and put her arms around him. He didn’t resist.

  “I never thought I’d be free again,” he said hollowly. “And certainly not like this. I’m human. Ordinary. Normal.”

  “Just because you don’t have your powers…” Aladdin began.

  “THEY WEREN’T MY POWERS!” the genie snapped. “They were who I was. Who all djinn are. We can do these things the same way you monkeys can walk upright or read books. It’s the way we are born.

  “Sorry,” he added quickly, running a hand over his head. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

  “It’s all a lot to take in,” Aladdin said, looking around and finally resting his gaze on Duban. His old friend stood there, looking angry but confused. His eyes were red-rimmed and his face was pale.

  Morgiana moved forward and put her hand on Duban’s arm. It was hard to tell if it was out of solidarity, sympathy—or to pull him out of everyone’s sight. Maybe it was a little of all three.

  “Duban,” she murmured.

  Maruf approached his son slowly. He clapped an arm over his shoulder, unsure what to say or do.

  “Son, I’m touched that you love me enough to…do…this. But…”

  “I just…” Duban said, suddenly at a loss. “It’s all I could think about…he deserved to die.”

  But he said it without much conviction.

  “You planned this from the beginning,” Aladdin said slowly. “That’s why you wanted to switch with Morgiana and have her try to free the others. That’s why you’ve been so…quiet and moody.”

  “I…had to!” Duban protested halfheartedly. “It had to be done. You know that. You all do. Jafar had to be killed. Nothing else would stop him or end his reign of terror. He would weasel out of whatever punishment you decided on. You know that.…”

  “What’s done is done,” Morgiana said. But she didn’t sound convinced.

  Duban looked at Shirin and Ahmed pleadingly, but they shrank back into the protection of Maruf’s robe.

  The old man took the children aside and whispered soothingly to them.

  “They’ve just been through a lot,” he said aloud, trying to sound reassuring.

  But Duban was staring at the floor somewhere past the dead sorcerer, unseeing.

  Jasmine surveyed the scene around the room and found that she didn’t even have the energy to cry. Death, mess, sadness, confusion all around. Not a good place to start.…She wandered over to the balcony and looked out.

  “Too bad there’s no way to make myself heard over that chaos,” she said with a sigh. “Like magically.

  “PEOPLE OF AGRABAH! YOU ARE FREE!” she shouted as loudly as she could, raising her arms. “We won,” she added, a little weakly.

  A few people noticed and cheered.

  “You’re going to have to get out there,” Morgiana said to her, turning from Duban for a moment. “You’re going to have to go down there into that mess and make sure everyone sees you and hears what the deal is.”

  “How is anyone going to see me in all that chaos? I’m already a head shorter than everyon
e else. Even in my biggest crown.”

  “We’ll carry you,” Aladdin suggested as cheerfully as he could. “On our shoulders. In a triumphant procession.”

  “I could have made a triumphant procession,” the genie muttered. “With horns and confetti and the whole shebang.”

  And so the friends emerged from the palace in a hastily arranged parade. The palace guards were extremely pleased with the new situation; apparently they liked stability even more than they liked fighting. They raised the portcullis and provided an escort that preceded her, shouting that people should make way for Sultana Jasmine.

  Jasmine balanced as gracefully as she could on Aladdin’s and Duban’s shoulders, a white silk bandage wrapping her forehead to cover her burn. Duban kept his head down, reduced to silence again. Maruf hobbled behind along with the genie, who was having trouble picking up and putting his feet back down properly.

  “This walking thing is the worst,” he grumbled. “Is the gravity here always bad this time of year?”

  Shirin and Ahmed tagged shyly behind them, exhausted but a little pleased to be part of the procession and the center of attention.

  Morgiana strode last of all, trying to grin but looking very uncomfortable—and it wasn’t just because of her limp, bandaged arm. Thieves weren’t supposed to be the center of attention. She kept her good hand on her dagger.

  The crowds closest to the palace weren’t fighting anymore; they were waiting to see what was happening with Jafar and Jasmine. News spread quickly when they saw her waving and smiling. Ragged cheers began in a wave. People raised whatever weapons they had in the air and shouted in triumph.

  And then they joined in behind the parade, singing and dancing.

  “You all right up there?” Aladdin asked as he shifted her weight on his shoulder.

  “Absolutely. Head to the Street Rats’ HQ—the new one!” she said with a grin. “Let’s bring the party there!”

  They began a slow winding route through the city, adding to their numbers with more revelers who joined in as they progressed.

  But from her perch, Jasmine was able to see a smaller, slower procession moving away from the noise: a family carrying the sadly familiar body of the undead boy Jalil, who was now at peace. Neither Agrabah nor its people remained entirely unchanged by what had happened. For some people, nothing would ever be the same again.

  But a few streets farther on, an old friend came bounding out of the crowd and leapt up on the new sultana, practically knocking her down.

  “RAJAH!” Jasmine cried, hugging him. The tiger had singed whiskers and still limped a little from when Jafar had injured him. Otherwise he seemed fine and licked her face like a puppy.

  After that there was little need to stay on anyone’s shoulders; Rajah drew more than enough attention to the sultana—and added to her mystique. She kept one demure hand on his back and waved with the other, looking every inch the sultana despite her bare feet and torn clothes.

  By the time they finally made it back to the bread warehouse, it seemed like all of Agrabah was in the streets, partying.

  Pareesa appeared out of the shadows and walked nonchalantly next to Morgiana and Duban as if she had always been there. She was smiling but smelled of smoke.

  Little Hazan shouted with joy when he saw his friends Shirin and Ahmed safe and sound. He ran up to them, and the three happily danced around the feet of the grownups.

  “Abu?” Aladdin called out, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  He wasn’t going to worry about his little friend. Abu would be fine wherever he was. If he had left for a free life somewhere in the jungles or at an oasis or something somewhere, so much the better. Aladdin was happy for him. “Abuuuuu?”

  Angry monkey chitters rained down upon him from a fierce ball of brown and tan that leapt up and down on top of the warehouse.

  Aladdin grinned from ear to ear. Abu crossed his arms—almost like a human—and didn’t come down to greet him the way Rajah had Jasmine. He would, Aladdin knew, sulk for a while and keep his distance. Which was fine. As long as he was there.

  The Street Rats at home were in full festival mode, pouring drinks into golden cups and handing them out to everyone. A small group of musicians had hastily formed a band and were banging out raucous dance music from a rooftop. Even Widow Gulbahar was lifting her skirts delicately and showing everyone how they used to dance in the old days, when music really was music.

  But everyone stopped what they were doing and began cheering wildly when they finally noticed Jasmine. She waved and the crowd only grew louder.

  “Congratulations, Sultana,” Sohrab said, coming forward out of the chaos. He bowed his head and dropped to one knee. Amur and Khosrow and Kimiya quickly followed suit—as did Pareesa and Morgiana and the rest of the Street Rats. And then everyone else, side by side, together as one. “Agrabah is yours.”

  “No,” Jasmine said, looking out at the sea of guild leaders, and the thieves, and the genie, and all the people of her city.

  “Agrabah is ours.”

  AGRABAH WAS EXHAUSTED after its weeks of punishment, nights of siege, and then excessive partying. To celebrate their refound freedom, people had stayed out in the streets until dawn, dancing and singing and chatting with old neighbors and new friends. The moon set on the festivities, and the sun rose on the sleepy aftermath.

  Duban, Jasmine, Aladdin, the genie, and Morgiana eventually made their way back to the palace in the rosy glow of the early sun. Maruf, Shirin, and Ahmed—and what seemed like half the children of Agrabah—were availing themselves of the old sultan’s toys in the next room. Their happy noises contrasted with the thoughtful silence of the five people who had a kingdom to rebuild.

  Duban desultorily kicked at Al Azif, now a smoldering, almost unrecognizable heap of paper and ashes.

  “There’s the lamp,” Aladdin suddenly noticed. It lay on the floor, battered and tarnished, the same old piece of brass it was when he had first found it.

  What a long time ago that seemed.

  Aladdin sighed. Everything he never thought possible had happened…and then everything had returned to normal. Back to the way it was before.

  Well, except for the branding, the executions, and what happened to Duban and the entire city, of course. There was all that to deal with.

  And he was certainly different.

  He picked up the lamp and handed it to the genie, who took it with a sad smile.

  “What a piece of junk,” the genie said. “And also a walk-up. I can’t believe I stayed there for ten thousand years, even if it was rent controlled.…”

  His voice drifted off, his heart not really in it.

  “Yeah. I think I’m done here,” he said finally. “Hey, Princess? Remember that thing I told you about traveling the world? Getting away from the place where my people were wiped out?”

  “Yes,” Jasmine said gently. She guessed what was coming next, even if she didn’t like it.

  “Think I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna go out and see the world. Find some snow. Start a new life…as a human. Somehow.”

  She nodded sadly and took his hands in hers. She marveled at how quickly she had gotten used to someone who was blue…and now he no longer was.

  “Thank you for everything. And…I’m so sorry. About everything.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

  Aladdin came over and clasped his hand. “I’m sorry you’re going. I wish we could have gotten to know each other better. You seem like one of the good guys.”

  The genie gave a weak smile.

  “This is too much,” Jasmine said with a sigh. “I…wish Jafar hadn’t…I wish I had…”

  Aladdin smiled and pushed a stray hair of hers back behind her ear. Like he had longed to from the beginning.

  “Wishes are over,” he whispered with a sad smile. “Maybe they never were, really.”

  “Genie,” Duban suddenly called out. “I’ll come with you.”

  “What?” the genie asked,
surprised.

  “I can’t stay here,” Duban said bitterly. “My dad was right. I shouldn’t have killed Jafar like that. It…didn’t need to be done that way. My own family can barely stand to look at me now.”

  “Duban, no,” Morgiana pleaded. “They’re kids! They’ll get over it. Stay here. It’s all right. We’ll get through it together. It was just one mistake.”

  “It was…a pretty big mistake. No, I have to make amends. My own way. I’ll come back someday,” Duban promised with a sad smile. “When it feels right.”

  “Stubborn he-goat,” Morgiana muttered, sniffing loudly. Duban laughed softly and came forward, kissing her on the forehead.

  “Well, all right then,” the genie said cautiously, but sounding happier. “We’ll travel the world escaping our past. Penance buddies! Let’s pack it up and go, shorty.”

  He looked lost for a moment. Perhaps he had tried to summon a backpack or a travel trunk. None appeared. A strange expression came over him.…Aladdin recognized it after a moment; it was very much like when you’re in a dream and know you’re in a dream and feel like you should be able to do anything that you want…but you can’t.

  Finally, the genie just shook his head and headed for the door.

  “Hate long good-byes,” he said. “Ten thousand years of watching you guys live and die will do that. So…bye.”

  “I hope you find peace,” Jasmine whispered.

  Duban gave Aladdin a little salute and bowed deeply to Jasmine.

  “Sultana,” he whispered. And then he followed the genie out.

  And that was it. They were gone.

  Morgiana watched them for a moment, trying not to sniffle.

  “Those kids are tearing up my future office,” she finally growled, stomping off to break the news to Maruf and the kids.

  Jasmine sighed and walked to the balcony to look out over her city. The time for wishes might be over, but so was the time for tears.

  Aladdin came over to stand next to her and put his hand on her shoulder.

  Together they watched the crowds slowly disperse and the still-smoldering fires smoke.

  “This is going to take a long time to fix,” she said.