Free Magical Mechanications by Pip Ballantine, Tee Morris Page A

with a hint of warmth in his voice. “Well, Aladdin, I will not mince words with you—I am your father’s brother, finally come home.”
    An invisible hand felt as if it had clasped around his neck. His mother had never mentioned an uncle, let alone any sort of remote connection with the famous magician, the All-Powerful Jaha. They had a simple life—as simple as any of those who served at the Sultan’s pleasure. Aladdin knew he complicated that life with his antics; his mother always scolded him for his reckless ways. She cursed his lost father’s name, especially at moments when Aladdin would arrive home short of breath and wearing the sweat of a day’s mischief on his skin.
    Never had his mother told him of an uncle. Never had she hinted that uncle was the All-Powerful Jaha.
    “I was sold into bondage when your father was only three,” Jaha began, “so it comes as no surprise that he did not remember or speak of me. He knew me by a different name, of course.”
    Aladdin tipped his head to one side. “Your name isn’t really Jaha?”
    “A story we should save for another time, but in brief,” he said popping a few small berries into his mouth, “I was taught to pick locks by another slave. He had been quite clever this gent; he taught me sleight-of-hand and other illusions to pass the hours.”
    “He could pick locks? Then why did he not escape?”
    Jaha took a sip of tea, and continued. “He had for some reason he never explained, made me a ward of sorts. This meant we would escape together and split a small fortune that he had amassed before his own misfortune.”
    “A likely story,” Aladdin snorted before helping himself to a piece of goat. He wrapped a piece of the soft bread around it. “So what happened to your teacher?”
    “He died in the midst of our escape.”
    Aladdin looked up from his morsel in mid-bite. Jaha was staring out of a window at the far end of the restaurant.
    “Nassir gave me the location of his fortune with his dying breath, and I went in search of it, our master and his dogs on my heels. I knew if I wanted to truly be free, I needed a new life and that day Jaha was born.” He chuckled as he picked up his own tea. “The All-Powerful bit did not come to be until I began to travel. I had the skills of a talented thief, but instead I found a more ‘honest’ life in the pursuits of an illusionist.”
    “A magician, you mean,” Aladdin pressed.
    “Come, come, Aladdin,” Jaha chided. “You hardly believe in such nonsense as magic, séances, and the like, do you?” He shook his head. “In my travels I have met many interesting people, but it was a Frenchman named Robert-Houdin that opened my eyes at what many perceived as ‘magic.’ He helped refine and sharpen my skills; not only in my illusions but also in my relationships with my fellow man. You saw how I knew the master of this house?”
    Aladdin nodded.
    “In fact I only knew of his name—but knowing a man’s name can grant you entrance into his home. It is these talents of society that aided me in my advancement. Something I would very much like to pass unto you—when you are ready,” he said to Aladdin with a wink before continuing his story. “Once I had made a name for myself, I set out to fulfill a promise; to reunite with my brother.”
    Aladdin hung his head.
    Jaha nodded. “As I feared.” He looked Aladdin over, “You are what—fourteen?”
    “Sixteen,” Aladdin insisted.
    “Of course, your smaller size—I should have known.” He nodded, finished his tea, and rose from the table. “What of your mother?”
    “She still makes carpets for the palace,” he replied, tearing another slice of flatbread in half as he stood.
    “Take me to her,” he said. “It is time I make amends to my lost family.”
    Aladdin watched in awe as the magician thanked the owner without paying a single coin for the fine meal.
    Jaha tilted his head. “His payment is in my presence there. People saw us go in, people