Page 30 of The Wishless Ones
“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Jafar asked. Rohan rolled his eyes.
The walkway was wide and airy, columns holding up a roof of stone latticed with the sky and its scattered clouds. Potted palms swayed in the breeze, corridors branching off to various doorways, all of them connected to the House of Wisdom.
“The sky is brighter here,” Rohan said.
“The absence of smoke will create such a thing,” Jafar said.
“So will not having an old man shoving stale crackers down your throat all the time,” Iago added.
Rohan’s eyes dropped to the worn leather of his sandals and the ornate stones beneath them, no doubt slipping into a memory he had no reason to dwell upon.
“That was our father. Have a little respect,” Jafar said, and Iago lifted a brow at him, but Rohan cracked a wistful smile.Success,Jafar thought.
They turned the corner. Dust gritted their footfalls. The air turned drier and warmer as the sun shook off the dregs of her slumber. The doors to the renowned House of Wisdom approached, and Jafar tightened his fingers around the scraps in his pocket.
Rohan released a slow breath. “For the lamp. For Baba.”
Jafar couldn’t bring himself to lie. Especially not with the way Iago was looking at him.
The House of Wisdom had been constructed with the sun in mind. The rising rays painted the stone in gold, sand glittering like embers in the wind. When they cleared the glare of the sun, it was to find a guard in white robes standing before a pair of massive carved double doors.
Jafar swallowed his anxiety and straightened his shoulders.
“That’s a very pointy weapon for a man guarding books,” Iago remarked.
Books that had the power to change the world.
“Remember the plan,” Jafar whispered.
Rohan drew a shaky breath and nodded.
“State your business,” said the guard, spear glinting.
“We’re House of Wisdom acolytes,” Rohan said in a voice much more believable than Jafar had expected.
The guard laughed. “Every street rat from here to Agrabah would say the same.”
Iago ruffled his feathers. Jafar soured at the words, fighting a wave of anger when Rohan flinched.Rat.Jafar’s hands itched, something feral coming over him, but he was the elder, the first. He couldn’t allow his emotions to best him.
He took the slightest step forward. “Do we appear to be rats,guard?”
The guard swept a better look down their clothes: the finely embossed sashes around their middles, neatly hemmed robes, supple leather for their gauntlets. It was only their sandals they hadn’t been able to spruce up, but no one would look that far.
Except this guard did.
He glanced from Rohan’s feet to Jafar’s, brow wrinkling. Iago’s talons tightened. Jafar homed in on the guard’s every move: the way his mouth straightened and his fingers tightened around the spear, a decision settling into his shoulders.
Jafar held his breath. A whine was slithering up Rohan’s bare throat. The guard looked up and licked his lips, setting Jafar’s teeth on edge.
“You two have had quite a long journey,” he said at last.
Jafar exhaled long and slow, but he couldn’t let his relief show. “And you’re making it much longer.”
“Yes, yes—of course.” The guard tapped the ground with his spear. “If you can hand me your scholarship, you’ll be on your way.”
Jafar stilled. This was it. He supposed he had hoped they would be allowed inside before he was asked for proof. Somewhere such as a receiving room, so that he could put a little distance between himself and Rohan before opening his mouth.
Rohan beat him to it. “We journeyed—”
