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want?” I turn and face the serving girl.
    â€œThe same thing we all want. He just won’t admit it.” I see longing in her eyes, and also anger, when she looks at Aladdin. “Freedom from the past.”
    I watch the thief thoughtfully, my face softening.
    The girl in the ring says something, and Aladdin laughs, his smile lighting up his face. He leans over and whispers in her ear, and she nods, then takes his hand and coyly leads him from the ring, dodging admirers.
    Dal sighs and shakes her head ruefully. “I give her four, maybe five days—hey! Where are you going? Let him go, sister! It’s not worth it!”
    I slip under the rope and into the ring, ignoring her.
You don’t know anything about it, “sister.”
I am the last person in the world who is interested in Aladdin. What I
am
interested in is sticking close enough to him that I won’t get inconveniently sucked back into my lamp.
    I struggle through the crowd, trying to catch up to him, but a brawl breaks out between two gamblers, and I am knocked to the ground. Instead of trying to get up and fight my way back to Aladdin, I quietly shift into a tawny cat and dart through people’slegs until I reach him. If anyone did see me, they’ll probably attribute it to too much simmon. I’m sure stranger things have been hallucinated in this den of sweat and barbarism.
    Aladdin and the girl have escaped into the blissfully quiet street, where they laugh and walk through the shadows. In one of the buildings nearby, a baby cries and a dog barks in response. The smells of roasting meat and strong spices waft out of a window above us. Though the crowd in the Rings is surely still shouting and cheering, not a sound escapes through the wide stones beneath our feet.
    I stalk across the cobblestones, tail high and ears alert to every sound—while trying to block out the sound of Aladdin and his new friend, who are laughing and whispering. Eventually they stop and stare at each other, the girl taking Aladdin’s hands and drawing him close.
    â€œWhat’s your name?” he asks her.
    â€œFirst tell me yours.”
    â€œAladdin.”
    â€œI’ve heard of you.” She smiles and runs her hands down his chest.
    Aladdin is like one intoxicated, but not only from the wine. He leans forward, until her back is to the wall, and he inhales the scent of her hair. “Oh, really? And what have you heard?”
    Her hands move up to trace his jaw and his lips. “That you are bold and that you are the best at what you do. That you”—she plants a light kiss on the corner of his jaw—“even stole something valuable from Prince Darian.”
    He pauses, his lips brushing her hair. “And where did you hear that?” he murmurs.
    â€œYou know how we girls are. Always gossiping.”
    â€œAbout me?” He grins.
    She laughs and lifts her face, enticing him with her lips, but when he moves his mouth to hers she turns her face and says in an entirely different tone, “
Finally.
Take him, girls. He’s the one.”
    Before I can make a move, a small knot of girls appears from the alley behind Aladdin, and a black bag is thrown over his head. The girl he’d been so close to kissing knocks him unconscious. I recognize them at once—the silent spectators in the Rings.
    â€œA shame,” sighs the leader. “I think he’d have been a good kisser.”
    Then she and the others drag him down the street and into the dark.

Chapter Seven
    B Y TRANSFORMING INTO A SPARROW and flying overhead, I am able to follow the girls as they hurry through the streets, carrying Aladdin’s unconscious body between them. The girl from the ring takes the lead, and silently they work their way south, sticking to side streets and avoiding lit and populated areas.
    For now, I shadow them silently, waiting to see what they will do. To be honest, I am a bit vexed with Aladdin at the moment,