Free Magical Mechanications by Pip Ballantine, Tee Morris

the street, in the opposite direction from the docks. “Come. Let us find some lunch.”
    As they walked through the street, Aladdin noticed that the many people of the marketplace were pausing. In fact many of them were staring. In a few instances gatherings actually parted to make way for the two of them. Aladdin looked over his shoulder for soldiers or even an honor guard, but all he saw were people in their wake, pointing at them, and wearing the most brilliant of smiles.
    Sweet, savory scents of cardamom, curry, and garlic now filled his nostrils. On cue, his stomach rumbled impatiently. Aladdin was indeed famished. He considered making an escape only after this stranger paid for a meal.
    “Ah, Great Jaha,” a gentleman gabbled as they walked into his dining establishment, “you honor me with your patronage!”
    Aladdin blinked. “Jaha? The magician?”
    His companion didn’t respond to Aladdin but kept his attention on the shopkeeper. “Yes, Karim, such a pleasure to step into your fine establishment.” Jaha motioned to Aladdin, as if presenting him formerly. “My associate and I are more than ready for a meal. Please, only your best.”
    Karim recognized Aladdin straightaway—as Aladdin recognized him—but the café owner’s outward disdain disappeared as quickly as water under the noonday sun. His eyes went from Aladdin to the magician.
    “This is your associate?” His brow creased in confusion.
    Jaha lifted an eyebrow. “There is no problem with the company I choose to keep, is there?”
    The restaurant owner shuddered. “Magister, forgive my impertinence, please,” he replied with a flourish, bestowing formal obeisance.
    Aladdin followed Jaha to a small booth that isolated them from the rest of the patrons. Several took a pause in eating to watch them. Once they had taken their seats, the wooden pillar set within the wall of the establishment opened up. Mechanical arms presented a tea that was tepid enough to be soothing but not uncomfortable when combined with the day’s heat. They had only taken a few sips when a chime rang softly. From above their heads, a tray lowered and the mechanical arms now offered “manna from Heaven”—as the infidel crusaders from Europe would say—in the form of jasmine rice, soft flatbread, lamb and goat, seasoned by spices Aladdin only knew from scraps he scavenged.
    “And they call me a magician,” Jaha chortled as the metal arms retracted from their table and returned to the kitchen above their heads. They both watched as the staff there replaced the hole in the ceiling with a new plate. “I suppose the Europeans are good for some things after all.” He then motioned to the food before them. “I don’t stand on ceremony, boy. Eat!”
    It did not take long for Aladdin to stuff his mouth with bread and lamb. He only paused when he realized that Jaha was looking at him disapprovingly.
    “I said ‘eat’ not ‘devour.’ Finish what food you have in your mouth,” he said, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it into a small bowl of yogurt, “and then watch and learn, boy.”
    Aladdin doubted the magician had ever known what it was like to be hungry. That did not mean Jaha had been wrong in correcting him; Aladdin had been fairly gluttonous. As he chewed and chewed at the huge amount of food stuffed in his mouth, his cheeks burned with embarrassment as Jaha continued to slowly, meticulously savor the food before them. The magician seemed highly amused by Aladdin’s struggle.
    When he finally managed to choke down his mouthful, Aladdin asked, “Why are you helping me?”
    Jaha’s smile—the one he had worn when he had met him in the street—returned. “Why wouldn’t I wish to treat my own family to a much-needed, well-earned meal?”
    Aladdin felt a sharp twinge in his chest. “Family?”
    The magician stopped his hand half-raised to his mouth. “What is your name, boy?”
    “Aladdin.”
    “A good name, most fitting for our family,” he said