“You should go back to baking bread,” he says. “Or do you make your coin by warming beds? Perhaps once I’ve broken your pretty nose, I can use my winnings to have you warm mine.”
“I don’t go in for livestock,” she returns.
With a wordless roar, the Bull charges. The audience holds its breath. Aladdin tenses, an enthralled smile tugging at his lips.
For a moment it seems she is finished, but at the last moment the girl smoothly dances aside and drives her elbow into the Bull’s temple, knocking him off balance.
The crowd erupts back into life. The fights at the other rings have suspended, and now everyone is focused on the central match. Wagers are drawn—overwhelmingly in the Bull’s favor, but a few adventurous spirits bet on the girl. Aladdin’s hand goes to his pocket, and he pulls out the Nerubyan coin, thoughtfully considering.
“You wouldn’t,” I say.
“What? I like her style.”
“That coin is quite possibly the last remnant of a once-mighty civilization that existed for hundreds of—”
“A gold on the girl!” Aladdin calls, catching a bookmaker’s attention.
I sigh and turn back to the fight.
Around and around they dance. She is a mouse desperate to avoid the stamping feet of an elephant, and the longer she evades, the more tired she gets. The crowd is frantic now as more money is thrown on the Bull. Aladdin leans in and mutters, “Come on, come on . . .”
I notice a few faces across the arena that watch with silent intensity, their eyes filled with worry. All of them are girls the age of the young warrioress in the arena, and they are all dressed similarly.
Then the Bull hesitates, stopping to catch his breath, and the girl takes the chance to rest as well. She is standing directly in front of Aladdin and me, within arm’s reach. Bent over, her hands on her thighs, she gasps for air and drips sweat onto the sand.
Aladdin leans over the rope and whispers, “His right leg is slow. There’s a hitch every other step. If you’re quick . . .”
She looks over her shoulder, through strands of sweaty hair that have escaped her braid. “You betting on me, handsome?”
Aladdin grins. “You busy later?”
She shrugs and pops her knuckles, her eyes traveling over his shoulders and torso. “I think I could spare a minute.”
His grin widens, and the girl suddenly springs forward, sprinting toward the post behind the Bull. He snorts and moves to intercept her, but she is too quick for him. With a cry she leaps into the air, plants a foot on the pole, and pushes off, vaulting through the air toward her opponent. Before he can make a move, she connects feet-first with his face, snapping his head around with an audible crunch. As he shakes his head and sways on his feet, she bats away one of his halfhearted punches and throws her bare leg up and around his neck, the other leg following. With her ankles locked behind his head, she arches and twists herself, her momentum bringing the Bull crashing facedown to the ground. Quick as a snake she rolls free and rises, then plants a foot on the back of his meaty neck.
Aladdin nearly falls into the arena as he whistles and cheers, more than a little drunk, and the rest of the crowd descends into chaos as the fight concludes. The gamblers settle their debts, and the few lucky ones who bet on the girl grab their winnings and then wisely disappear before they can be mugged. Aladdin wins back his gold piece and a pile of silver.
“I’m going in! Wish me luck!” he says breathlessly, and he climbs over the rope and joins the small crowd gathered around the girl, cheering her on and offering her drinks. I lean on the post and watch, shaking my head. Aladdin’s sorrows seem entirely forgotten.
Dal appears at my side, her hands full of empty cups. She gives me an appraising look with one eyebrow arched. “I know that look.”
“What look?”
“Don’t sweat it, sister. We’ve all had it.” She sighs. “The girls he loved and left.”
Irritably, I look away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” Dal smiles sadly. “You can either hate him or accept that that’s just who he is. When Aladdin sets his heart on something—or someone—nothing can stop him from getting it. And when he does have it, he realizes it’s not what he wanted after all, and then something else will catch his eye, and off he goes again. Over and over. And here we are, the casualties.”
“I’m nobody’s casualty.”
Aladdin has made his way to the girl’s side and is chatting in her ear, crossing his muscular arms for her benefit. I can’t help rolling my eyes.
“She’s pretty,” says Dal. “And she’s tough. But she’s not what he wants. Not that he’ll believe that until after he’s won her.”
“And what does he want?” I turn and face the serving girl.
“The 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’s legs 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.