Thief of Cahraman: A Retelling of Aladdin (Fairytales of Folkshore Book 1)

by Lucy Tempest

  Arrive at the new crescent moon and await admittance.

  As I slipped the card back into the envelope, I wondered what ranked up there with theft as a dishonorable activity. Getting drunk and sliding down the palace steps on a goose-feather mattress then throwing up on the prince’s shoes? And what skills did I have besides lock-picking?

  Good thing I wouldn’t be there long enough to be shoved into any of those pompous tests.

  I tucked the letter into my cloak pocket and approached the nearest of the ‘eligible young women.’ A petite girl no older than myself, in a billowy cream satin gown with pleated folds and tight cuffs, stood loudly chatting with three others. She wore a necklace of alternating cream and silver pearls that complemented her tan skin. Her hair was thick, glossy dark blonde and held up in a bun by a silver coronet, showing her dangling abalone earrings. From the elaborateness of her whole outfit, she seemed to be a noble, a higher status than most of the girls.

  She had a round face dotted with freckles, a small chin and cheeks heavy with baby fat that rose up to almost shut her eyes in an involuntary squint when she smiled.

  The smile was seemingly for me, as she jumped up at my approach. “Hello! You were chosen for the contest, too? Well, of course, you were, or you wouldn’t be here otherwise, now would you? How are you? How was your trip? Am I talking too fast?”

  She did talk so fast I expected her to bite her tongue.

  “Yes, I was. I’m pretty worn out. And my trip had…let’s say a few bumps and unexpected turns, but I’m here now. And yeah, you kind of are,” I answered her questions in descending order then held out my hand. “Hi, how are you and how was your trip?”

  She forwent the handshake and launched herself at me in a body-slam of a hug, nearly tipping us both over. Though she was much smaller than me, I wasn’t exactly steady on my feet.

  “Oh, it was dreadful!” she whined with her face buried in my chest. “I’m from the other side of the mountain and I didn’t know it was going to be so hot. I hope this is just a heat wave because I can’t survive this weather for much longer.”

  Honest, enthusiastic and chatty. I was sticking with this one.

  She released me and took my hand to shake it. “I’m Cherine! Nazaryan! Daughter of Lord Gaspar Nazaryan. I’m from Sunstone’s sister city, Anbur. It’s a bit smaller but even more lively.” She looked up at me, interest gleaming in her big hazel eyes. “Anyway, who are you and what family and land are you from?”

  As basic as those questions were, they were ones I had no answer for.

  Damn Nariman for sending me off the deep end without a cover story.

  If I wasn’t so used to lying I probably would have outed myself as an unwilling tourist, or as a loon, by blurting out “I’m Adelaide of Ericura, a land I thought to be the whole world until I got dragged into this one by a witch in the woods to get her a fancy incense burner.”

  But I’d had years of practice making up stories on the fly. Now I had to come up with something that sounded convincing to someone from both The Known World and this lifestyle.

  The only place I knew of, beside this city, was where Nariman had said she’d sent Bonnie. It sounded like a place too far for anyone from here to know much about. I could use that.

  “I am…Lady Ada of…Rosem…Rose Isle. It’s near the woodlands of Arbore.”

  “Ooh! Arbore! I’ve been there once!” I held back a panicked yelp. Cherine, giving me no time to worry, poured on. “I’ve heard there are roses that bloom on trees there. Is that what it’s like on your isle? Is that why it’s called that? I’m afraid I’ve never heard of Rose Isle, or else it would have been my ultimate destination. My mansion gardens could use a rose tree.”

  “You live in a mansion?”

  “You don’t?” Cherine asked, looking genuinely confused.

  “I…uh, not anymore. Not for as long as I can remember. You see, my family, while noble, isn’t wealthy, having lost most of its fortune to my grandfather’s gambling. We had to sell all our valuables and downsize to an old summer home on Rose Isle.”

  When in doubt, repackage the backstory of a character from a tragedy.

  “Oh, you are from an impoverished house. Is it a cadet branch of the Amarants?”

  Not knowing who or what the Amarants were, I just nodded. Better for her to fill in the gaps than for me to get caught in an inconsistent lie.

  Another girl approached us, diffusing Cherine’s expectant silence.

  Looking like she just walked out of a farmland, the girl was a tall, tanned and toned leggy blonde with waist-length, wavy, sun-streaked hair and a body that straddled the line between well-fed and sinewy. She had big leafy-green eyes, a straight nose, squared cheekbones and wide, rosy lips. All she was missing were the wreath of laurel leaves and peach blossoms and a bundle of wheat to become every depiction of the Field Queen I had seen throughout Ericura.

  I couldn’t tell what stunned me more about her; that she seemed to emit a soft golden glow or that she was taller than me. Never had I met a woman who towered over me, or even most men around us like this one did.

  The illusion of her perfect divine glory shattered when she stumbled and crashed into Cherine, sending them both to the ground in an awkward mass of limbs.

  I caught them both by the elbows and heaved them up. “Are you alright?”

  The blonde girl grinned at me bashfully, tucking a stray lock of hair behind an ear with multiple empty piercings.

  Upon closer inspection, this girl was kind of a mess. Her green-and-gold dress was at least a size too small and made from rough cotton for a much shorter girl. She wore no makeup, no fancy jewelry and sweat added shine to her skin and frizz to her hair. She didn’t look like she belonged in this primped line-up and it seemed she knew it.

  “Sorry, I’m not used to wearing shoes, let alone these,” she said, kicking out a foot to show us her heeled sandals. Why a girl her size needed heels was beyond me.

  “It’s fine,” I said with a smile.

  “It’s not fine!” Cherine protested, dusting her dress. “She could have crushed me.”

  The girl pretended she couldn’t see Cherine at first then made a show of looking way down to spot her. “So that’s what I tripped over.”

  Cherine jumped up toward the girl, finger raised demandingly to her face. “Who are you and what land and family are you from?”

  “Do you ask everyone that?” I asked her.

  “But, of course. I have to know what to expect from you and if we can socialize or not.”

  I frowned. “What do our lands or families have to do with whether we can be friends or not?”

  They both looked at me curiously.

  Then Cherine patted me on the hand. “Ada, darling, I know your family is disgraced but you’re still noble. There are rules within each class, especially our own. Maybe you’ve gotten slack in following those rules because of your situation, but if you’re from a family whose ancestors fought mine, or from a land that warred with mine, or if there is any rivalry between our families, then we can’t possibly be friends. Don’t you think so, um…what was your name now?”

  “Cora,” the other girl answered. “My mother is Mistress of the Fields in the Granary.”

  “Oh. A farm girl,” Cherine said with waning enthusiasm, looking Cora up and down with a cross between a grin and a grimace.

  I gestured between us and the rest of the girls. “Aren’t we all rivals now, though?”

  Cora’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you know, we can’t be friends since only one of us can get the prince.”

  Cherine tossed her head back and laughed. “Oh, that’s only if you take it personally.”

  “And why wouldn’t you?” a loud, disapproving voice cut in.

  A fourth girl had arrived, this one flanked by two others.

  All paled in comparison to her extravagant clothes and enviable beauty. If Cora was the glowing embodiment of my local fertility go
ddess, then this girl was the face in every storyteller’s mind as they told of glamorous fairies whose unearthly beauty lured men to their deaths.

  With dark, shiny hair that contrasted with her unblemished alabaster skin, she had deep-set eyes, a pointed nose and full archer’s bow lips that were painted a dark, glossy red. Her long neck was wrapped in a necklace of brilliant greenish-blue stones that dulled in comparison to the turquoise of her eyes.

  Her beauty wasn’t simply enviable like Bonnie’s or Cora’s, it was practically intimidating. Between all three of them, I felt ugly, insignificant, a weed among flowers.

  Under the newcomer’s belittling gaze, Cora bristled, squaring her shoulders in a confrontational stance.

  Cherine’s unimpressed grimace became a full-on defensive glare. “Fairuza, fancy seeing you here.”

  Fairuza, slightly less statuesque than Cora, wore a flowing, glittery, silver-white dress with a long, gossamer train. Head held high, catching the light on her elegant cheekbones, she strolled leisurely towards us, hand over hand, showing off the diamond rings and a blue-opal tiara bracelet, identical to the one I found in the envelope, on her wrist.

  With slight turns of her head, she eyed each of us. She tutted at Cora’s dress and messy hair, wrinkled her nose disparagingly at Cherine’s everything and finally raised her perfect eyebrows at me. “Gold. A bit over-confident, aren’t we?”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Fairuza quirked her lips. “Only brides wear gold dresses in Cahraman.”

  Barely ten minutes here and I already committed a—what did they call it? A social grievance? Whatever it was, it was Nariman’s fault. What had she been thinking, sending me here in bridal gold?

  I squared my jaw and carefully picked my words. Nothing good ever came from antagonizing rich girls. “Do they? That’s news to me, seeing as this is my first time here. Where I’m from, brides wear white.”

  Fairuza hummed interestedly. “And where is it that you’re from?”

  I had to give her the same story I told Cherine. “An island near Arbore.”

  Fairuza came closer, lowering her chin so her glittering eyes drilled into mine. “Really? I’m from Arbore and we don’t have islands.”

  Chapter Six

  I stared at Fairuza, my mind stalling.

  I hadn’t thought I’d get caught this early.

  I should have known. With my luck, the place I picked to pretend I was from—the only place I knew by name in this world—would be the one everyone knew about and could spot my lie the moment it left my mouth.

  Before I could backtrack, Cora cut in, “It’s an inland island, isn’t it? Arbore is full of rivers, and there are a few islets in them.”

  Feeling like she’d thrown me a lifeline, I agreed, a bit too loudly, startling Fairuza. “Yes! That’s it. My island is one of those. It’s called Rose Isle.”

  “Isn’t that in the Rosewain River?” Cora asked, drawing me another line to follow.

  I nodded vigorously. “It’s not that big, and a bit downstream, we were the only people of note there, which isn’t saying much.”

  Fairuza seemed to buy the explanation, looking me up and down disdainfully. “Explains why you’re here then. Because there aren’t suitable girls to offer in your part of the land. But even with your obvious disadvantages, you must have been sent here with some plan in mind.”

  I smiled tightly. “Haven’t we all?”

  Fairuza’s brilliant eyes hardened, becoming indistinguishable from the stones around her throat. “So what are you here for? Are you hoping to rope in some well-to-do man with a future or fortune once the prince spurns you? Or are you actually hoping to be queen?”

  I shrugged. “Neither, really.”

  That threw her off. She didn’t get to follow up on my confusing answer because the train arrived with a loud hiss of steam and a metallic screech that made us all wince and grind our teeth.

  Without another glance at any of us, Fairuza turned and snapped her fingers at her coachman to lift her luggage. She was the first to hop into the front compartment, her two-girl entourage holding up the train of her skirt.

  Cherine huffed loudly next to me, throwing a shawl around her shoulders and picking up a small bag. “Why? Why of all the girls linking East and West did she have to get picked?”

  “Money?” I suggested, still in awe of her glittering silvery dress.

  “The fact she links East and West?” Cora added, hauling up her huge, heavy-looking bag like it weighed nothing. “Wait, is this Zomoroda’s daughter?”

  “Sure is,” Cherine said, her voice dripping venom as she hustled over to the line and shouldered a girl out of her way to cut in. “Excuse me, this isn’t your local cart trail. You get in line and go in by order of rank. Cora, Ada, come!”

  “I thought you said it was by order of rank?” a girl behind Cherine protested.

  “Yes, and since I outrank you, I choose my companions.” Cherine elbowed her again and grabbed Cora by the elbow.

  Cora, in turn, clung to me and Cherine, dragging us both into the train and to a compartment. My dummy coachman followed and set our luggage above and below the seats before collapsing into a cube on the seat next to me.

  This must be a land where magic was commonplace if no one blinked at it.

  “Genius?” Cherine dropped on the window seat across me, her feet barely brushing the carpeted floor.

  I stared at her. “Bless you?”

  She made an impatient gesture as if I was being slow. “I meant is your butler a genius? Isn’t that what you call a djinni in Arbore?”

  I looked to Cora for help, hoping she’d save me like before.

  Sure enough, she sat down next to Cherine and explained, “Genii and djinn—the latter commonly called genies beyond here—are quite different.”

  Cherine let out an “Ooh!” of realization and nodded. “Then what is that?”

  “A genius, like you said, but not as you meant,” Cora said. “Genii, are, you know, the living essence of every object. It’s what gives everyday things like metals, waters, and oaths magical potential. I think here you would call this thing a qarin?”

  Relieved that she’d explained, I decided to escape further interrogation despite wanting to ask about genies. Bonnie’s ancient books, that held tidbits of lands I’d once thought dead or fictional, mentioned them as being lesser fairies that granted wishes once captured.

  Oh, Bonnie. She would have loved to be here, blue eyes darting everywhere to take in each foreign sight, asking all possible questions and getting engrossed in this new world and all it had to offer. Nariman had seemingly sent her to the land she had wanted us to sail to, Arbore, but it wasn’t in the way either of us would have wanted.

  Trying to keep my heartache at bay, I patted my boxed coachman and said, “I don’t know what this is. It was a…gift.”

  Cherine tutted. “You should always ask what something is and where it came from before you accept it. It could be cursed for all you know.”

  I couldn’t dispute that. This magical helper was part of the curse I seemed to be sinking deeper into with each passing second. Not that I’d accepted it. I had no more will in this than it did.

  The train groaned to life and moved out of the station. In a few minutes, the marketplace flew out of sight as the tracks went uphill to the inhabited levels at the base of the mountain.

  As the train climbed higher, the city shrank below us, giving us a semi-aerial view of all the landmarks. Even from that distance, I could still see everything in that pervasive light that lit up the night. Colossal, weathered, russet-and-silver statues towered in squares surrounded by sprawling domed buildings. Elaborate painted shops and plazas festooned around massive fountains in shades of bronze and verdigris, shaped like open clams or flowers.

  At one point, the only thing I could spot among the glittery map of reflective surfaces and twinkling lights was the line of gigantic temples splitting the city in half. If I squinted hard eno
ugh, I could still make out the designs and the figures depicting what seemed to be gods.

  Soon they all blurred into the distance, then I could no longer see them at all once the train switched onto tracks that circled the mountain.

  Every passing moment through the trip made the whole thing sink in harder, deeper.

  I was sitting on a train winding up to a palace in a fantasy land, next to a qarin and two girls who might turn out to be a sprite and a sylph for all I knew.

  Every time I began to accept that this wasn’t a dream, something would reinforce the shock of where I was, what was happening, what I was supposed to do, and I would find myself on the verge of a panic attack. But then this distressing dream went on as if everything was normal, with my companions talking so matter-of-factly of qarins and genies, or palaces and princes, and I slipped back into my new role. If I could think of this as just another character I was playing for a con, I might just get by.

  Trying to gather my wits again, I pressed my nose against the window as we snaked up and around the mountain. The temperature had dropped what felt like a dozen degrees, cooling my skin and turning my wet breath to fog on the glass.

  Suppressing a shudder of cold and nerves, I asked, “Have you seen it before? The palace?”

  “I used to live in it,” Cherine said. “My father is King Darius’s cousin.”

  Cora, disinterested in the view as she twisted and untwisted a lock of her golden hair around her fingers, asked, “Wouldn’t that make you a princess?”

  “I wish!” Cherine lamented. “Our family was noble beforehand but we got a slight leg-up once my great-aunt Morgana married King Xerxes, but nothing much since. I could have been a princess if the old king had married my grandmother instead of her sister. Or if King Darius married my mother like both their mothers wanted.”

  I listened with my eyes still aimed out the window as we winded around the mountain. I wanted to see Cherine’s city of Anbur, which she’d said minutes ago would come into view. All I got from this vantage point was an obscure view of arid hills and faraway settlements, with some trees in the foreground, most of them like the ones I’d seen when I first arrived on the outskirts of Sunstone, what I’d been told were called palms.