by J. R. Rain
ALADDIN
SINS BAD
by
J.R. RAIN
&
PIERS ANTHONY
The Aladdin Trilogy #2
Acclaim for J.R. Rain and Piers Anthony:
“Anthony’s most ambitious project to date. Well conceived and written from the heart.”
—Library Journal on Piers Anthony’s Isle of Woman
“Be prepared to lose sleep!”
—James Rollins, international bestselling author of The Doomsday Key
“Piers Anthony is a writer of passion. Volk is a masterpiece.”
—Brad Linaweaver, author of Moon of Ice
“Dark Horse is the best book I’ve read in a long time!”
—Gemma Halliday, award-winning author of Spying in High Heels
“Piers Anthony is one of the more colorful personalities in the SF world.”
—Science Fiction Chronicle on Piers Anthony’s Bio of an Ogre
“Moon Dance is a must read. If you like Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter, be prepared to love J.R. Rain’s Samantha Moon, vampire private investigator.”
—Eve Paludan, author of Letters from David
OTHER BOOKS BY
PIERS ANTHONY AND J.R. RAIN
STANDALONE NOVELS
Dragon Assassin
Dolfin Tayle
Jack and the Giants
THE ALADDIN TRILOGY
Aladdin Relighted
Aladdin Sins Bad
Aladdin and the Flying Dutchman
Aladdin Sins Bad
Copyright © 2011 by J.R. Rain and Piers Anthony
All rights reserved.
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Aladdin Sins Bad
Author’s Note: This novel was suggested by the adventures of Sinbad the Sailor in the Arabian Nights. I (Piers Anthony) have six translations of those adventures, which are summarized by Sinbad in Chapter One. Sinbad’s wife died of natural causes and was placed in the underground tomb, along with her surviving husband, Sinbad, as was the custom in that culture. He managed to find his way out and returned home. But suppose she was not really dead, but only enchanted by some fell nemesis who used this as a device to lure our heroes into a trap? We went on from there, as you have seen.
We are indebted to Rudy Reyes, who proofread the manuscript and found a score of errors I had overlooked. Or, as I like to put it, typos grow on the page after the proofreading. They didn’t know there would be a second proofing to catch them. It was a trap, see...
—Piers Anthony
Aladdin Sins Bad
Chapter One
“You’re what?” I demanded, stunned.
“I am with child,” Jewel replied. “I knew I shouldn’t have cured your impotence. That led to nothing but mischief.”
Suddenly it made sense: she was pregnant! That was great news in a couple of respects. First it meant I would have a blood-heir again. Second it explained her recent difficult strangeness. She had taken to eating odd things, and her moods had become perplexing. “That’s great,” I said weakly.
“Naturally I will not be catering to you in bed for the duration,” she said. “I need to protect the baby. You will have to be satisfied with concubines.”
“But I’m impotent with concubines!” I protested. “You’re the only one I can make it with.” I had been impotent following the deaths of my original wife and son, until Jewel took me in hand, as it were. It was love I had needed.
“I’m sure you can make do if you really try.”
I loved her, but she was at times the daughter of a dog. She knew I could not be unfaithful to her, even with alternates she approved.
A courtier approached. “Sire, the sailor is back.”
“Sailor?” asked Jewel. “What sailor?”
“Sinbad the sailor, your highness.”
Her eyes widened with pleasure, a look normally reserved for me in the royal bedroom. I frowned at her reaction, but hers was a common one. Sinbad was famous far and wide for his travels and, from what I understood, had garnered quite a reputation with the ladies. I was instantly jealous, but I bit my tongue.
“He is here, then?” she asked, and actually waved her face with her hand.
I bit down a little harder.
The courier, looking slightly perplexed, since he had come to see me, after all, said, “Yes, your highness. Here to see King Aladdin about a business proposal.”
Jewel turned to me. “Then we are done here, my husband. Go attend to your guest.”
Her eyes flared brightly again, then she gave me a peck on the cheek and departed.
As if I didn’t have enough on my mind already. Sinbad the Sailor had been petitioning for an audience for months. I had put him off without an audience because I knew what he wanted: a ship to go adventuring in. Ships were expensive, and the man had already lost several. He was not a good risk. Sure, he would promise to deliver half the fortune he made to the kingdom. But if he lost the ship, as he probably would, that would come to nothing.
And my wife’s obvious interest in the man didn’t help his cause.
What the Hades. It was time to put an end to this nonsense. I would make a suitable pretense of kingly fairness, hear the man out, then explain courteously why it was impossible to oblige his request and send him away forever. It was better than being constantly pestered. So he wouldn’t take no from a subordinate? He’d take it from the king, or lose his head, literally.
Then I had a notion. “Fetch Duban.”
The courtier bowed. “I will summon the Crown Prince,” he agreed.
Duban was Jewel’s son, now rising onto age twelve, whom I had officially adopted when I married her. He was a good boy, and a truly potent magician. Both were problems: a nice boy would have trouble doing the necessary as king, and his magic had not been much in evidence lately. He needed discipline, and it was my job to provide it. His doting mother wouldn’t.
In moments Duban was there before me. “Sire,” he said formally.
“Come with me,” I said curtly. “I have a situation to deal with, and you need to learn how it’s done if you’re going to be an effective king some day.”
“I don’t want to be any kind of king,” he said. “I’m not the kind. I lack hard-minded discipline.”
At least he was realistic. “You will learn it. Even if you’re not king, it will do you good to know how to deal with people.”
“Can’t I leave that to my woman, as you do?”
Ouch! It was true that Jewel provided the backbone for handling routine that I sometimes lacked. “A man needs to be able to do it himself. Then he can leave it to others if he wishes. I’m sure Myrrh will help you when the time comes.”
“She can read my mind!” he wailed.
Which was true. Myrrh, now eleven years old, was a truly talented girl who had helped rescue Duban from evil captivity. She was a mind reader who could sometimes see the future. That was why we banned her from the royal chambers at night. I could see how it could be awkward for a boy verging on manhood, even if he was bound to marry her when adult.
“You know,” I said, “I suspect that you and I might do well to go away somewhere for a while, get to know each other better. Away from the women.”
“Yes,” he agreed thoughtfully. “I love Mother, but sometimes she smothers me.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Maybe I can find a spot mission where women aren’t welcome.”
“Maybe then I cou
ld work on my magic.”
We arrived at the audience chamber. There was a somewhat scruffy man I knew immediately was Sinbad the Sailor. “Sire,” he said, bowing low.
I took my throne, and Duban took a chair, dispensing with further formalities. “Yes, I am Aladdin, and this is Crown Prince Duban. What’s on your mind, sailor?”
He came right to the point. “Sire, I want a ship.”
I frowned. “Ships do not grow on trees. Why do you want a ship?”
“To garner fabulous riches, all of which you may take for the kingdom.”
“Why should I risk a valuable ship for a mere half of the take?” Then I paused, frowning. “How much did you say?”
“You can have it all, Sire. I care not for riches.”
This was not following the script. “You’ve always amassed riches before. What’s different this time?”
“I want to rescue my wife.”
Both Duban and I stiffened. If this was a personal motive, it was difficult to disparage. “I did not know you were married.”
“That’s because I wasn’t, or so I thought. I thought my wife was dead. But recently I received information that she lives, but is captive. I must gather great riches to redeem her.”
Duban picked up on this. “So the voyage is to give riches to someone else, not this kingdom.”
Sinbad actually fidgeted. “There should be enough for both. I know where great treasures are.”
“Where?” I asked, thinking he would balk.
Instead he launched into a summary of his several prior voyages. “When I first sailed, we landed on an isle that turned out to be a great fish, and I got dumped in the water and barely survived. Now I know that fish was a whale, from which we could get valuable ambergris. On my second, we encountered great roc birds and huge serpents, but also fabulous diamonds. On my third, a cyclops who surely had obscene treasure hidden away. On my fourth I met and married my wife, a treasure beyond reckoning. On my fifth, a wretched old man who sought to ride me to death, as he had others; there should be valuables hidden there, from those who died. On my sixth, I found myself in a cave with rubies, and later found emeralds and pearls. On my seventh, an elephant graveyard where there are great quantities of ivory. All I need is a ship to gather them. After I redeem my wife, I can return to fetch similar treasures to take back to Samarkand.”
This was a wild story, surely exaggerated, surely not worth believing, let alone risking a ship for. But my eye caught Duban’s eye. This just might be a pretext to get away from the women for a while, and maybe see some interesting sights along the way.
Except for one thing: I always got horribly seasick on a ship. Did I want to get away that much?
Chapter Two
I nearly ordered Sinbad away. Nearly.
Instead, I told him to return on the morrow and I would give him my final decision. He bowed graciously, his robust beard just scraping the polished tile of the greeting room. He exited the hall quickly, clearly knowing when not to push his luck, which showed a rare level of awareness and common sense. At least, rare in my experience. The stories of Sinbad had reached even me, and it is a wonder the man is alive; that is, if his tales could be believed. After all, he often returned alone from his fantastic voyages, so there was little corroborative evidence. Still, I always fancied myself a good judge of men—indeed, I was due to preside over the royal court shortly—and something told me that Sinbad was an honest-enough ruffian.
“Did he say cyclops, Faddy?” I whispered.
I felt an invisible presence manifest next to me, a surge of energy that made the hair rise on my arms, and in an instant my ifrit was by my side.
“Indeed he did, master.” The voice was spoken lightly, directly into my ear. Despite being surrounded by guards, courtesans and general palace staff, his presence was known only to me.
“Have you ever seen such a creature?”
“They are legendary, even in Djinnland. Then again, so is Sinbad. It is a rare honor to meet such an acclaimed adventurer.”
I bristled, mildly irked. I felt a wave of rare jealousy. “You mean acclaimed wrecker of ships,” I said, grumbling. “He is just as famous for coming home empty-handed, and how do we know his tales are even true?”
“There is but one way to find out,” said Faddy.
I knew what he was getting at. Indeed, already all signs were pointing for a fantastic voyage, but I was hesitant. Leaving for the high seas while a wife is newly with child is not a decision I would make lightly, or even one I looked forward discussing with a wife who lately was moody and temperamental at best.
“Sire,” said Faddy. “Have you given thought to my request?”
“Your request is highly unusual, ifrit,” I said.
I sensed him fading away and had a brief, mental image of the tall being bowing low. “Yes, sire. Thank you for your consider—”
“Wait, El Fadl,” I said, using the ifrit’s formal name. “I have given thought to your most unusual request, and I have decided...to release you.”
“Master?”
“You’re a free man. Or djinn.”
And in that instant, the tall ifrit appeared by my side, to the shock of those around us, most of who gasped, although one or two screamed. One guard actually fainted, slumping forward and just missing impalement by his own spear.
Faddy bowed low again, and when he looked up at me, there were tears of joy on his strangely handsome face. I say strangely, because it was obvious the ifrit was not of this world. His chin was too pointy, as were his ears. But the joy on his face was universal.
“Thank you, master.”
“I am not your master, Faddy.”
“Thank you, sire. I cannot express to you the joy I feel. What made you change your mind? Any king would want his own ifrit.”
Indeed. Faddy had come in handy in more ways than one. As a secret spy, he was irreplaceable, but I also prided myself on being a fair and equal ruler, and to have a being bound to me against his will did not set well with me. He had asked for his freedom, having had a taste of such freedom on a recent adventure to Djinnland, and now Faddy was not to be denied, as I suspected would be the case. He hungered for freedom, as he had expressed to me days ago, and I would not deny my ifrit his heart’s desires.
“What will you do with yourself, Fadl?” I asked. “Now that you are free to do as you wish.”
The tall being stood straight and wiped away his tears. Others in the court continued staring at him. Despite rumors of my magical lamp, the sudden appearance of a magical being was not commonplace in Agrabah, my kingdom.
“I seek a mate, sire.”
“A female djinn?”
“Of course. I have no interest in humans.” Faddy actually made a face.
I chuckled. “I was unaware of the existence of female djinns.”
“They exist, or so I have heard. I shall devote my life to finding a mate.”
“Then I bid thee well, my friend. Do not be a stranger.”
Faddy smiled, bowed again, and faded away. The guard nearby, who had just recovered enough to push himself up to his knees, caught sight of the disappearing djinn, and promptly pitched forward again.
* * *
“She is a witch!” hissed a young woman. “I have seen her turn staffs into snakes.”
“I see,” I said. “Did anyone else see this staff turn into a snake?”
“Yes!” shouted the four accusers in unison, but when questioned separately, they all described the snake differently. I was beginning to have my doubts.
The accused stood before me, her head bowed, listening to the accusations leveled against her. She was quite old, with back bowed. She had yet to speak, even as her four accusers presented wild tales of witchcraft.
“Esteemed woman,” I said when I had heard enough, “what say you for yourself?”
She looked up at me now for the first time. “I am not a witch, my lord, but I do see things.”
“What kind of things?”
“Future things. Visions.”
“You see, my lord!” screamed one of her accusers. “Who but a witch sees future things? Only Allah knows the future!”
“Quiet!” I said, raising my voice only slightly. Had I raised my voice another octave, the man who spoke out of turn would have been dragged from my court. I looked back at the elderly woman. “These visions you have, have any of them come to pass?”
“All of them, my liege. Every one of them.”
“Do any of them concern me?”
“Ah, the ego of kings. Yes, my liege, one does concern you, and it is the reason why I’m here today.”
“You are here today because you have been accused of witchcraft.”
“No, my lord. I am here today because I was not granted an audience with you.”
“I do not understand.”
“Twice I have come to see you, my liege, and twice I have been turned away.”
I blinked, feeling my anger rising. “So your accusers do not think you a witch?”
“Oh they do, my lord.”
I glanced at her four accusers, who ranged from young to old, three men and one woman. They looked as perplexed as I felt.
The old woman said, “I have a bit of a reputation, my lord, and so when I was turned away by your guards, I spread stories about me, stories about staffs turning into snakes, and well water turning to blood.”
“And none of this is true?”
She gave me a small grin. “Of course not, my lord.”
“And so you did all of this to gain an audience with me?”
“Yes, my lord.”
I sat back and studied her. “You have gone to great lengths to speak to me.”
“Yes.”
I motioned to those in attendance who were chattering excitedly to each other. “You have turned my court into a farce.”