10 - Jafar
J afar counted the last of the coins he’d brought from home and set off with Rohan and Iago for the bazaar. Their clothes were dusty and worn from their travels, and though Rohan argued that the gatekeepers of the House of Wisdom wouldn’t care, Jafar believed otherwise.
While Rohan perused the stalls, Iago fluttered to Jafar’s shoulder, nails cinching tight.
“When I have new clothes on, we’ll have to revisit where you sit, because it won’t be on my shoulder anymore,” Jafar said, eyeing his talons.
“Sure it will,” Iago said. Jafar enjoyed their raillery. It was different from his back-and-forth with Rohan, and strangely, the fact that it was less sincere and intense made it feel more natural. “We need to talk about your idea to walk up to the House of Wisdom.”
“As I already told my brother, it’s not up for discussion,” Jafar replied, narrowly avoiding a child running across the street, waving a brand-new doll.
“Your brother doesn’t know you ever saw the acceptance letter,” Iago said.
“And?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t care about hurting his feelings.”
Jafar glanced at him sidelong with a pause. He didn’t think the parrot cared either way. “He won’t have to know.”
“You still have the scraps in your pocket,” Iago said, fluffing his feathers. “You’re planning on showing them at the House of Wisdom’s door.”
Jafar gritted his teeth. He didn’t like that Iago had been watching him and knew his plans. “Why do you care about how Rohan will feel? You don’t even like him.”
“I don’t,” Iago said matter-of-factly as Jafar balked at the price tag on a blacker-than-black set of robes. “But you’re brothers. He can be as sinister as you, and I’d be careful about betraying him when you’re all he has. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re short on allies.”
“Wait, betraying him? I’m not—”
“Jafar, when you’re a parrot like me, you learn people. There’s a lot going on in that boy’s head, and he’ll see anything you keep from him as a betrayal. And you’ve got a list of secrets and lies, don’t you?” Iago asked.
He had a point. Rohan was easily disquieted. He had always tried so hard to please everyone around him, including unworthy people like Baba. Perhaps Rohan had some of that same ruthlessness in him that Jafar had recognized in their baba…and himself.
Jafar didn’t fully know why Iago cared. Why was he on his side? Jafar wasn’t used to anyone doing anything for him without expecting something in return, without a motive that wasn’t immediately clear.
Still, Jafar wasn’t sinister, and Rohan surely didn’t have a sinister bone in his body. He was a daffodil abloom in the carnage.
“Stop thinking you know me. And him,” Jafar said, annoyed that Iago had thoroughly messed with his head.
Iago shrugged. “Oh, I’m sorry I was looking out for us.”
Us . Jafar didn’t know where this sense of companionship had sprouted from, but as sounds of the bazaar rushed back between them, he realized he didn’t want to refute it.
“Fine, then tell me this,” Jafar said, stepping to the side to let a family pass. “What reason would Rohan have had for not wanting me to apprentice at the House of Wisdom?”
Iago looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it. “Did you ever think about how leaving your baba behind meant leaving Rohan, too?”
Jafar’s suspicions over Iago’s withheld response were quickly overshadowed by what he did say. Jafar had toyed with the idea, sure. He would be leaving Rohan behind, but for better things, knowledge that would soon distract him, a pair of rubies that would alter the very foundation of his world.
He hadn’t thought about how his brother would feel.
Rohan waved him over to a shop amidst the stalls. Jafar pushed past a man carrying fresh fruit and a woman counting her change with confusion, biting his tongue when a boy and his friends nearly tripped him.
“Oi! Watch where you’re going,” Iago snarled, and the boys looked at Jafar like his voice didn’t quite match his body because they didn’t realize it was Iago who had spoken.
When Jafar finally made it to the shop, Rohan pulled open the door, and the three of them stepped inside to find it hot and crowded. Robes in every color hung from the walls, rich and vibrant, fit for royalty.
“Are we supposed to be able to afford something?” Jafar asked with a laugh. The place smelled expensive. Like heady musk and crisp sandalwood.
Rohan leaned close. “We don’t have to. The shopkeeper can’t keep a close eye on everyone.”
“Did your fresh start already die?” Iago exclaimed before Jafar could.
Rohan shrugged. “It’s like Jafar said. We have to find our footing first.”
Jafar was fingering the fabric on a set of decadent ink-black robes. Or, he thought, it’s acceptable when it’s Rohan’s idea, and immoral when it’s mine.
It was a very Baba thing to do.
Iago said nothing, but Jafar got the sense that he was thinking the same. He was dreading the inevitable moment when the parrot would speak to him about it.
“Can I help you, young effendi?”
The three of them turned to the shopkeeper, a tall and slender woman, her lips bright as Iago’s feathers. She seemed unbothered by the heat in the tight space, but Jafar was starting to grow a little faint.
“We are only looking,” Jafar said.
“Our mother might need help, though,” Rohan said, and pointed to where the crowds were the thickest. “She’s over there.”
The moment she turned away, Rohan began rolling up the ink-black robes.
“What are you doing?” Jafar asked.
“Hurrying up,” Rohan said, shoving the bundle against Jafar.
Jafar glanced at the shopkeeper in alarm, but she was pressing deeper into the crowd, her voice rising above the din. He couldn’t protest now that their countdown had begun, and besides, the robes were exquisite. If he pilfered a new headdress in a deep shade of crimson while he was at it, oh, it was only because he was passing time until Rohan picked out his own clothes.
“Uh, boys?” Iago asked from atop Jafar’s shoulder. “We have a bit of a problem.”
Jafar followed Iago’s line of sight. The shopkeeper was coming their way, and she didn’t look too happy. Jafar slipped his hands and the robes behind him, pressing back against the shelves with various decorations for sale.
“I didn’t see your mother,” the woman said, a little suspicious.
Rohan fumbled. “Are you—”
“She might have left without us, then,” Jafar replied, oozing dismay. “I told her we needed new clothes for my brother’s betrothal, but she rarely takes him seriously. We’ll go find her, though.”
Jafar was proud of himself when sympathy softened the woman’s features. Another beat more, and they would have been free.
If Rohan hadn’t failed.
He dropped the robes he’d chosen for himself.
The shopkeeper looked at the pile of clothes at his feet and then behind him, where the robes had been hanging neatly, realization slowly dawning on her face. Jafar met her eyes with a guilty laugh.
She didn’t waste a beat. “Guards!”
Of course a store like this would have its own guards.
“Run!” Jafar shouted. He tossed the dropped robes at Rohan and darted for the exit, squeezing between two burly men who had just stepped inside. He shoved the door open with his shoulder and leaped into the street, sinking into the sand before he found the paved road. Rohan was on his heels. Iago took to the skies. Shouts rang out behind them. Jafar ducked past a sweep of fabric draped over a stall and glanced back, heart dropping to his feet.
An entire platoon of guards was on their tail.