People walked, talked, and laughed to each other, not knowing where their paths would end up.

That was how it began.

In the garden, on a lovely day, viewing cherry-blossoms.

Queen Hippsodeth looked at the cherry tree, and smiled. 'It's beautiful,' she said, looking at the blossoms, then at the Sultan of Agrabah who stood beside her, 'but I fail to understand its significance.'

The Sultan smiled back at her. 'It was given me by a man from the island of Nippon, far from here -- do you know of that country?'

The Gallifeme's queen smiled back, but there was something else in the smile. 'I have been there on occasion,' she said at last. 'Lots of rice fields, lots of temples, but they know how to fight: a few of the Gallifemes were originally from there. They taught me things I didn't know were possible.'

'Apparently, they venerate this tree because of its short life,' the Sultan said. 'It blooms, beautifully, as it's doing now, but it doesn't last long. They use that transiency of existence as a metaphor for human life. Their warriors write poems about it.'

'Really.'

'Well, that's what I was told.'

The two rulers walked to the tree, and watched the blossoms float gently to the ground. Hippsodeth found blossoms lodging in the horsehair crest of her helm, and shook them out bemusedly. 'It's a credit to your gardeners that they can keep this tree so healthy while it blooms.'

The Sultan's chest swelled with pride. 'You can thank my daughter for that, Hippsodeth. She's the one that looks after this tree.'

Hippsodeth shook her head. 'Is there no end to your daughter's talents?'

The Sultan eyed her with a sly, sidelong glance. 'She's had a number of good teachers -- in a variety of things.' He smiled.

Hippsodeth smiled back. 'I see.'

The Sultan moved closer to the tree, and placed his hand on it's smooth bark. It felt curiously warm, and not just because of the sun. The heat suddenly intensified and the Sultan jerked his hand back with a little cry of pain.

Hippsodeth reacted instantly: the lifetime response to a fellow warrior's cries on the battlefield. She gently took his hand and inspected it. There was no sign of any wound or puncture, and the skin was unmarked. 'Are you injured?'

The Sultan looked at his palm. He saw nothing. He flexed his hand, and it opened and closed normally. The pain was fading like a memory. 'No. That was the strangest thing. It felt almost hot when I touched it. Curious, but it seems no lasting harm has been done. I'll have the surgeon look at it later, just in case.' He suddenly became brisk, businesslike. 'If you found that impressive, I simply must show you the koi pond.' He offered his arm, and winked at her almost roguishly. 'Coming, Madam?'

Hippsodeth just managed to restrain herself from giggling. 'Why not?' she said, choosing to play it cool and aloof instead. She took his arm, and they walked off together.

'Madre de Dios!' Thundra sighed in contentment, and looked at Iago fondly with her violet eyes. 'You certainly know how to choose a perch, mon amour. They don't have trees like this in the rain forest.' She looked at the ground below them, littered with the cherry blossoms. 'And there the trees know where to keep their leaves -- on the branches!'

Iago put his wings behind his head, and lay back contentedly. 'I'm just surprised you could swing this vacation. I know how busy you are. That whole mythic thing plays havoc with your schedule, doesn't it?'

Thundra brought her face closer, and looked at him. 'I knew it would mean a lot of work, muy amigo, but I felt it was worth it, to be with you.'

Iago brought a wing out and hid his face momentarily. He couldn't trust himself to speak: he didn't trust what might come out of his beak.

'Is the parrot blushing?' someone said. 'This is a historic moment!'

Iago brought his wing away, and glared at the couple below him. 'I don't recall ever eavesdropping on your intimate moments, Eden. Do you mind?'

'Why,' the female genie said coquettishly, 'I just came to look at the cherry tree that's all. How was I to know someone would be roosting in it?'

'We,' said Iago with stiff dignity, 'do not roost. Barn fowl roost. We perch.'

'Keep your tailfeathers, Bird Man,' Genie said with that cheeriness that Iago found endlessly irritating. 'Eden didn't mean anything by it. Roost, perch, we didn't know the tree would be occupied. Sorry!' The smile he gave was sincere, and convinced Iago all the more that Genie didn't really mean it.

'Honestly,' he grumped, tightening his claws for better purchase. 'You'd think -- awwk!' Iago suddenly shot straight up into the air, and cracked his head on the branch just above him. Thundra rushed
forward, and cradled the dazed parrot in her wings.

'Speak to me, my little love-dumpling! Are you all right?'

Iago shook his head until the stars cleared from his eyes, and he looked up into Thundra's concerned face. 'Except for a headache, I'm fine, Thundra. But that branch felt hot, all of a sudden. I probably burned my tailfeathers off.' The parrot craned his head around until he could look at his posterior. Nothing. 'C'mon! From the way that felt, there should at least be a mark, or something! What a gyp!'

'Sounds like,' Genie smirked, 'the flames of looove!'

Iago, still cradled in the rainbird's wings, snapped his head around and looked at the Genie with an evil smile on his face. 'OK, Blue Boy. If that tree's so safe, why don't you touch it?'

'All right,' Genie said, like the bold little kid who's always first to respond to the dare, 'I'll do it.' He reached out and touched the tree, then smiled up at Iago. 'See? Nothing. Yeeoowwtch!' He suddenly launched himself into the air on a stream of smoke, and began ascending at a tremendous clip. Then, just before he passed out of eyesight, he began to fall back towards earth. Eden transformed into a cushion and prevented his re-entry from being an overly painful one: Genie bounced once, and landed on his feet. He shook his head in bewilderment, and looked at his hand.

'Nothing. But that felt hot. I mean, sizzling!'

'I hate to say "I told you so",' Iago smirked, 'but...'

'What's this all about?' Aladdin's voice cut in. He and Jasmine were standing behind Genie and Eden. Behind them were the Sultan and Queen Hippsodeth.

'This tree,' Iago said, leaving (reluctantly) Thundra's embrace, and fluttering down, 'is hot. I mean it burns!'

'Don't be silly,' Aladdin said. 'How could a tree burn anyone?'

'Bird's right, Al,' Genie said. He shook his hand, and a theatrical stream of smoke plumed from it. 'Touch it if you don't believe me.'

'All right,' Aladdin said. He touched his finger to the bark and withdrew it instantly with a little yelp. Then looked at his hand. Nothing.

'Let me see that,' Jasmine said. She looked closely at Aladdin's hand, then stepped up to the tree, and reached out. There was a collective gasp. Jasmine's finger met bark. Nothing. No scream, or exclamation. Nothing. She touched it again. Still nothing.

'It doesn't hurt,' she said, 'it's wood. Nothing more.'

Eden, Queen Hippsodeth, and Thundra touched the wood in their turn. None of them were burnt or harmed either.

'This,' Thundra said,' is mucho loco...'

'Come,' the Sultan said, beckoning to all of them, 'I have something else to show that you might find interesting...'

Inside, they all stared at the pair of swords hanging on the Sultan's wall. One was about four feet in length, and slightly curved, though not so much as a scimitar or tulwar. The second was slightly shorter. Both of them showed a high degree of aesthetic beauty, as well as deadly functionalism.

'Ni-to,' Queen Hippsodeth said, speaking alien words with a strange accent,'or dai-sho. That's the name of those weapons. Roughly translated, they mean "two swords', or "big, little" respectively. It's what the warrior class of Nippon uses. Finest honed blades in the world; they cut through armour like it was paper.'

The Sultan glanced at her uneasily. 'I keep forgetting, my dear, that it's your business to know things like that.'

Hippsodeth grinned. 'The shorter blade,' she said, enjoying the looks on the faces of her audience, 'called the wakizashi, is used in ritual suicide. The men disembowel themselves. The women cut their throats.' Everyone looked, she noticed, slightly green.

'I'll bet she's a hit conversationalist at dinner parties,' Iago muttered. Queen Hippsodeth pretended she hadn't heard.

'Why would someone want to take their own life?' Jasmine asked. She couldn't help but notice that Hippsodeth looked at her approvingly at the question. Relationship aside, she still considers me a Gallifeme, she thought.

'Different reasons,' the Queen said. 'Cowardice in battle, dishonour, or their commander orders them to.'

'You've got to be joking,' Aladdin said. 'Why would someone kill themselves if they were told to?'

'I've seen it done. It happens,' was all Hippsodeth said.

'Anyway,' Eden said, 'are these weapons in any way related to your cherry tree outside?'

The Sultan started, as though shocked from a deep reverie. 'Um, yes. Given to me by the same man. The swords, he said, belonged to a great samurai named Tanada Gentarou. Apparently, the cherry tree was also part of his garden.'

'You know,' Hippsodeth said, 'I heard that Tanada loved the spirit of a cherry tree. She was so upset when he died, she pined away thinking of him.'

'Did he --' Aladdin wanted to know.

'No. Killed in battle. Brought great honour upon himself.' Aladdin sometimes thought the Gallifeme Queen considered herself always on the
field of battle: her discourse was terse and sharp, like a commander giving orders.

'Oh.'

'It's just a story. Every culture is full of them; you, of all people should know that.'

'When do we eat?' Iago wanted to know.

In his bedchamber, the Sultan awoke with a start. He was, he realized, very, very cold. And it wasn't the chill of the desert night: that was cold, but this was a level so sharp and crisp, it cut almost to the bone. What in Allah's name had -- he glanced at his feet under the bedclothes.

The blankets that covered him were draped in a powdery white substance, that seemed almost as fine as sand. It was this stuff that was cold. He touched it, and his hand instantly went numb, and then started to burn, leaving water droplets on his palm.

Looking up, he saw there were particles of the same stuff floating and swirling lazily in the air about his head. They settled on his head, his shoulders, his face. They burned with that brief, numbing sense of pain, and then vanished, leaving him wet. It was strange. He swung out of the bed, the upturning of the covers, scattering more of the fine white particles in the air, and placed his feet on the ground. Instantly, they were numb.

In the light of the moon, he saw the carpet was covered in the stuff as well, and considerable amounts: he floundered in white powder up to his ankles. Then he saw through the window, the palace grounds clear and majestic in the moonlight. They were totally clear: no white stuff, no sand blown in by errant winds, no litter. Whatever this phenomenon was, it seemed confined to his bedroom only. Very strange, indeed. Just then, his ears picked up the sound of sobbing, coming from a far corner of the room. A young woman, by the sound. Yet how had she managed to get here without the guards seeing her? Then the light fell on a soft lock of black hair, and he relaxed. It was only Jasmine, after all: something was bothering her, so the guards had let her in. He shuffled forward on feet that were totally numb; he could feel nothing, the white, cold stuff churning in his face with every step. He fought to control teeth beginning to chatter.

'Jasmine, dearest,' he said quietly. 'What is it?' The woman turned and faced him.

With a shock, he saw it wasn't Jasmine. The hair was black, true, and the woman was young, but her face was different. She wore a strange dress, patterned in flowers in white and black, her hair done up in a topknot of some sort, and her face almost as white as the stuff that covered the room.

The sobbing was genuine, he saw: tears gathered in her wide, dark, eyes, and rolled slowly down her face. He saw them actually crystallise, freeze into small water droplets in the moonlight, before falling to the carpet with soft, tinkling sounds. When she saw him, she smiled. The smile of a young girl in love, full of innocence and passions lost and forgot.

'Gentarou,' she said quietly, and began to walk toward him. The tears were freezing still, and falling off her face with those gentle tinkling sounds. Her sobbing was a constant alternation with her speech, an alien rattle of words he couldn't understand. She moved easily through the stuff on the floor: there was not a ripple of disturbance as she moved through it. Her arms went out to him. She was still sobbing, and smiling at the same time. Concerned, he began to retreat, but found backward progress impeded by the chilly powders on the floor. Yet, somehow, he knew she didn't mean to harm or frighten. This was no demon, attempting to entrap him, it was a young girl, or a girl's spirit, playing out some last tearful drama over and over. Nothing to do with him at all. Tears, and loss, and broken hearts. And an ache, a hole so profound, it could never be filled.

'You poor child,' he said quietly, heart going out to her, as his body tried to back toward the bed, as if believing hiding under the covers could dispel this, as a dream. As if in response to the empathy, the sobs grew louder, and the tears sounded like tiny cymbals as they rang down her cheeks. 'You poor, poor, child. All alone for this long, long time, weren't you? Alone.' They weren't speaking the same language, but he thought he saw her nod. Then her cold, tiny hands reached out to him, and he froze.

Her delicate lips brushed his cheek above the beard, and he felt as if his lungs had frozen. His body was growing stiff, now, and he found he'd been wrong about the stuff covering his bed. It wasn't cold. It wasn't cold at all. It was warm. The tiny arms embraced him, and his saw his breath escape in a gush of vapour. Then, he went out.

Aladdin woke when he felt the temperature drop. There was a swirl of white in the corner of his room, and he saw a black swirl of hair come with it. He thought he could hear the sound of sobbing, and a tiny tinkling noise, like distant caravan bells, fluttering and sighing in a desert breeze.

'Jasmine?' he said. 'Is that you?'

Iago noticed the
figure when the shivering roused him. He didn't know who she was, or what she wanted. He heard her say 'Gentarou,' and then she kissed him on the top of his head, and all his thoughts ceased to matter anymore.

Genie awoke to the sight of something swirling into existence in his lamp, something made of tiny, white particles, and carrying with it, a long swirl of black hair. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and conjured a lit candle from the air, peering carefully at his uninvited guest.

'Eden. I'm glad to see you, but do you have any idea what time it is?'

Many miles away, in the land of the Black Sand, Mozenrath heard the sound of sobbing and was instantly awake, more angry than alert. What fool would dare wake him with their crying and carrying on, much less in his inner sanctum? Heads would roll for this, but that would be the least of their worries. He saw a slim figure, pale skin, shock of black hair. His first thought was: it's Darice and her sisters. Is it feeding time already? A glance to his window put his mind to rest: it was almost dawn. Feeding would have taken place hours ago; the pairaka would now be asleep, or nearly asleep. And furthermore, they were trapped, behind silver. So what was this stupid waif doing in...

'Gentarou.' It was the language of Nippon, the former homeland of the sorcerer Hiroyuki, who had taught him the art of Kokoro no Jakku, the Heart of Evil. It allowed the sorcerer to summon rage and evil impulses, manifesting them as an ectoplasmic entity which was bound to the magus's will. Unfortunately, in Mozenrath's case, his will had proved to be his undoing. His negative impulses had been so strong, they'd had desires of their own, taken his face and form, and his kingdom for a time. He gritted his teeth as he remembered curling foetally on the floor of his cell and sobbing. No-one had ever done that to him, and no-one would ever again...

He frowned. Why was it so blasted cold all of a sudden?

His thoughts felt sluggish. He was, he decided, very tired, and he felt icy particles he knew to be snow dot his face. There was a faint jingling sound, like the bells the Laplanders put on their reindeer. He'd gone there, long ago, searching for the Book of Khartoum, pursuing a lead that had been false. He'd also spent enough time in cold climates to recognise the onset of hypothermia. He was dying, from loss of his body heat. And this child, this girl, was doing it to him, somehow. Yet, why was she crying? He looked into her dark almond-shaped eyes, and saw nothing there but tears and regret.

'Gentarou,' she said again, softly. The bells jingled. He saw they were her tears, freezing as they ran down her face, then dropping off musically with their little tinkling sounds. She touched his face, but the nerves there were now completely numb. He felt nothing.

'Gentarou.' An arctic wind. A pattern of frost building on a window.

The tinkling bells, the women's faces smiling beneath their fur hoods, the deer's breath snorting from moist, quivering nostrils.

The bells...

Jasmine had a dream. In it, she saw a young man, dressed in strange armour, head shaved, and hair drawn into a top knot, looking at her with sadness. He wore two swords at his belt: one long, one short. The dai-sho, she thought suddenly, remembering what Hippsodeth had said. He looked at her with a face full of pain.

'Sakura?' he whispered, in tones that seemed almost reverent. 'Sakura ga?' And oddly, she remembered someone else: Arbutus, the Earth Elemental, speaking to her, showing a plant with the loveliest blossoms.

This, he'd said to her in his deep and rich tones, like the finest loam, is what the Japanese call a sakura, or a cherry-blossom tree. Isn't it lovely?

And on the heels of that, Hippsodeth speaking: They say he loved the spirit of a cherry-blossom tree...she pined away waiting for him.

No, she said in the dream. No, I'm not her. The young man's face crumpled.

He was about to speak again, it seemed, when something took hold of her, and wrenched her from the dream...

It was the screams that first woke Jasmine. And she was even more startled to hear Rasuul was doing the screaming. 'Your Highness, your Highness!' Wakened beyond the shadow of a doubt, she rushed to the door and opened it. Faisal's face peered out at her. 'Faisal? What's going on?'

At the sight of the Princess's face, Faisal's own visage crumpled. 'Your Highness,' he began, faltering, 'your father --'

Jasmine pushed past him and rushed into her father's chamber.

The Sultan of Agrabah lay on his bed, eyes closed, fingers knotted over his chest. He looked as though he was asleep, but Jasmine knew her father never slept like that. And there was a stillness to him that spoke of something more than sleep. Rasuul had stopped his screaming abruptly. He looked at her
with eyes full of real pain. 'Princess,' he said, 'I am truly sorry.'

Queen Hippsodeth, she suddenly noticed, was also there. The Gallifeme, who had seen more people die in more hideous ways than anyone else in the room, who talked of death and dying as though it were nothing, seemed speechless.

Jasmine looked on, stunned. This could not be happening.

There was a knock on the door behind him. He turned aside to open it. Another guard carried Aladdin, Abu curled up on his chest. They both had that same terrible stillness.

Tears were beginning to prick Jasmine's eyes. 'No.' It was a soft whisper; she doubted anyone could hear her.

There was a sudden swirl of smoke, and Eden appeared, Genie cradled in her arms. 'He wouldn't answer his lamp. I went inside and found him like this.' Then she saw what Jasmine was staring at. 'Oh, no. No, no, no.'

Jasmine gestured to her father and Aladdin. 'Can't you --'

The djinniyeh made a sickly smile. 'I would if I could, believe me. But the rules --' She grew another pair of arms and waved them to demonstrate her helplessness. Then suddenly, she glanced down at Genie, and smiled. 'Hey! I might be able to pull this out after all!'

'What do you mean?' Jasmine sounded suddenly hopeful.

Eden pointed at Genie. 'He looks dead, or asleep, but he's not. His metabolic rate has been slowed way, way, down. It takes quite powerful magic to do that, or a genie would have to exhaust themself considerably to be out like this.' She peeled back one of his eyelids. 'Whatever put the whammy on him did a good job. He'll be like this for days.'

'But what were you saying, about "pulling this out"?' Jasmine pressed.

Eden was wearing a white coat now, with a strange instrument dangling around her neck. She stepped close to the guard that was holding Aladdin. 'If I may?' The guard allowed her to move close and she placed the instrument on her head, and pressed the flat disc at the end onto Aladdin's chest. 'Uh-huh, uh-huh,' she said, nodding suddenly. 'That's what I thought.' She removed the instrument from his chest, took the plugs from her ears, and smiled. 'He's not dead, Jas. He's just at a very low metabolic rate, so that he only seems dead. Whatever knocked Genie out must have put him under, too. But --' She produced a glass cylinder from the air, and placed it in Aladdin's mouth. After a few moments, she took it out. 'Can you get blankets?' she asked the guard. Then: 'Never mind.' She snapped her fingers and blankets instantly poofed into existence. She took Aladdin from his charge and wrapped him in several of the thickest ones. Then she produced a small bottle and gave it to the guard. 'Heat some water and put it in this, then put it under the blankets.' The guard rushed off. Eden then examined the Sultan. More smoke, more blankets, and another of the bottles was sent off to be filled.

'Their body temperature has dropped very low. We'll have to bring it up to more normal levels before we do anything. And we'll have to find out what did this. Genie will recover on his own; we magical creatures pride ourselves on resiliency. But to wake Aladdin, Abu, and your father, we need the original caster to reverse the spell.'

Jasmine looked at Eden. 'Spell?'

'I know of only a few magically-inclined that could, or would do something like this,' the genie said grimly. 'At first, I thought Frajhid, the Ice Efreet, but that's not his style. He goes for mass destruction, deep freeze; something subtle like this would be beyond him. I'll give you three guesses. The first two don't count.'

Jasmine's lovely face hardened. 'Mozenrath.'

Hippsodeth looked at them. 'Mozenrath?'

Eden explained. 'He's this kid sorcerer with a lot of power, a chainsaw for a mind, a magic gauntlet, and a real nasty attitude. We've crossed paths before. Jasmine saved Aladdin from him single-handed, once, and Aladdin's rescued Genie and me from his clutches. Only his machinations could be this subtle, this annoying,' she breathed.

Hippsodeth allowed a grim smile. 'Sounds like someone I'd like to kill. Nobody does anything to my man.'

Just then, they were interrupted by the sound of wailing. Thundra the Rainbird fluttered in the door, Iago cradled to her breast, and keening at the top of her voice. She seemed almost disappointed when they instantly assessed the situation, told her Iago's condition was not fatal, and she need not pine for him. But when they told her of Mozenrath's involvement, her violet eyes grew hard.

'Hijo de puta!' she spat. 'I want this cucaracha! I'll have it rain for forty days and nights! I'll knock his stinking Citadel to the ground! No-one plays games with Thundra!'

'Don't get your feathers ruffled,' Eden soothed. 'We need a plan. Marching into the Land of the Black Sand is not done on a whim.'

'A plan,' Hippsodeth mused. 'You mean a military campaign. That, I can help you with.'

'Princess,' Rasuul muttered, aghast. 'I must
protest this. With your father indisposed, you are the ruler of Agrabah! You cannot expect your subjects to be without a leader, and to march into the Land of the Black Sand is sheer foolishness!'

Eden and Jasmine exchanged a glance. 'Of course not.' With the wave of a hand, the Captain of the Guards was transformed into an exact replica of the Sultan. 'Do you think you can run the kingdom until I return, Rasuul?'

The captain's devotion to duty saved him. He snapped off a quick salute. 'Of course, your Highness,' he said in an exact imitation of her father's voice. 'I live to serve.'

'Good,' Jasmine said. 'As you were, Captain.'

Hippsodeth smiled admiringly at her. 'I always knew you were the right choice, Jasmine. You would have made a perfect Gallifeme.'

The City Of the Black Sands was silent and empty. The wind moaned, but there was no sign of any life. Or unlife, for that matter; even the ubiquitous Mamluks seemed to have departed. They saw hardly anything.

Queen Hippsodeth was leading the way, carrying a short sword instead of the usual Gallifeme bow. A few paces, and she would drop to the ground, scanning the street for signs of life, then motion them forward.

'Ay carumba!' Thundra muttered, bringing up the rear. 'I do not like this place, I can tell you. So drab and gloomy.' Even the rainbow that trailed behind her as she flew looked muted and pale. 'I wish I was back in the rainforest, muy muchachos.'

Jasmine and Eden exchanged glances. 'Well,' the genie said, sotto voce, 'it's better than Iago going on all the time, isn't it?'

Jasmine fought back giggles. 'The best part is, he couldn't say anything about us going!' Both women were abruptly convulsed with laughter, standing right there in the street.

'Do you mind?' Queen Hippsodeth hissed sharply. 'People have got themselves killed for less than that!' Chastened, they moved carefully after her.

The Citadel's gates were closed, and they still hadn't been challenged. They saw Mamluks, but there was nothing in the way of organised patrols tonight. The undead servants seemed to lack direction and purpose.

'What is going on?' Eden hissed in Jasmine's ear. 'Surely he's expecting us: his magic detectors are probably going bonkers right now.'

'Shut up!' Hippsodeth.

'The Queen is right. Silencio, you two!' Thundra snapped.

'And what are you gaining by yelling?' Jasmine wanted to know. Thundra looked chastened. Jasmine turned to Eden. 'Can you get those doors open, Eden?'

The genie walked up to one of the massive portals and pushed. It swung inward easily, silently. She turned to them with a grin, her old manic personality re-emerging.

'It appears that I can!' she said, satisfied.

'Where is he?' Darice wanted to know.

'You know,' Zahra said, 'he'll show up, but it's...'

'A question of when,' Finna and Rahi said in tandem. 'We know, we know.'

'But even so,' the dark-haired pairaka said to her sister, 'doesn't this strike you as unusually late? It's almost dawn. Can't you feel it?'

Zahra could. 'That is odd. He may look charming, and be brain-dead, but his survival skills and instincts are well-developed, at least...'

Finna tittered. 'So's his body.'

Rahi moaned. 'I'm hungry.'

Zahra sighed. 'Have a grape, then.' She conjured a juicy bunch from the air, and held them out. Rahi struck her wrist violently, and they fell to the floor, landing on a watered silk cushion. 'That's no good! You know what I need! We all need it!'

Darice shook her head. Her beautiful features looked washed-out, haggard, pinched. 'So does he, if he'd only realise that fact. Weeks go by, we get along beautifully, and then he decides to get reticent on us. We --'

'Whist!' Rahimateh suddenly hissed. 'Listen!' The pairaka's head was cocked, and her head tilted to one side. 'Do you hear it?'

Darice frowned. 'Hear what, O brainless bimbo?'

Rahi didn't react to her sister's slur, which was surprising. 'Someone's here!'

'You're imagining things,' Darice said simply.

'I'm not! Listen, you stupid cow, listen, and then tell me I'm imagining things!'

Darice listened. 'There is someone here!'

They listened, as the voices drifted up to them.

'Where to now?'

'How should I know? I'm not a permanent guest, thank you, so don't expect me to know the way to Mozenrath's chambers!'

'Well, let's find out where he is, shall we? I have some questions to put to him.'

Finna paled. 'They're after Mozenrath! If he dies' -- she clapped her hands suddenly -- 'poof! Back into stones!' She nibbled her nails nervously. 'We may not die, but I don't like the idea of being stuck here.'

Zahra nodded. 'Especially for eternity, which as Rowan Atkinson put it, is a sod of a long time.'

Rahi. 'So what do we do?' She seemed to have acquired some of her younger sister's nervousness by osmosis.

Darice
snorted. 'What can we do? We can't cross silver, as you know. All we can do is wait.'

She turned away from her sisters. She did not want them to know her hands were shaking.

The throne room was empty. The four women -- two human, one magical, one avian -- stared at each other. 'Now what?'

'We go upstairs, I guess,' Jasmine sighed. 'Allah knows I don't want to, though.'

The pairaka heard the footsteps coming down the corridor towards their room. Despite their invulnerability, despite their puissance, they cringed against the walls, and tried to bury themselves in the cushions.

'Let's try here.'

'Sounds good to me.'

'Ay, carumba! Just as long as we can get out of this stinking place!'

Shadows appeared on the threshold. Finna squealed.

'Hey, there's someone in here!'

The pairaka rose, and watched as their visitors entered the chamber.

'It would have to be women,' Darice mused, 'wouldn't it? No-one else could have the intelligence to do something like this properly.'

'Huh?' Jasmine said, stunned.

'I think you were too quick,' Rahi muttered. She pointed at Jasmine. 'She doesn't appear too swift, one's a muscle-bound warrior woman, one's a bird, and the last one's a genie, which automatically means she's a bubblehead.'

Eden clenched her fists. 'I'll show you a bubblehead, you little --' Rahi gestured, and the djinniyeh was buried in a coiled mound of chains. She dissolved into smoke and re-formed herself. 'Pairaka,' she said, with obvious disgust. 'Looks like Mozey bit off more than he could chew.'

Another of the creatures -- one with flaming hair, a blue turban, and vivid green eyes, arched an eyebrow at her. 'I'm impressed, genie. You're a credit to your race; not that that's worth much. I assumed we were relatively incognito in this land. But you apparently know of us. What's that you're wearing, by the way?' She gestured, an Eden grabbed at her neck. 'Hey!' Zahra turned the object over and over in her palm. A Star of David medallion.

'A genie, a follower of Yahweh,' she mused. 'How delightful.' She looked up, and Eden felt as though she were in the path of a laser. 'You may keep the trinket, genie. It offers no defence against us. And it's not you we're after.' She one-handed it to Eden, who caught it, and immediately dropped it, as though it were soiled.

'Do I offend you?' Zahra purred. 'I'm so sorry.' She smiled with patent insincerity.

'What are they?' Hippsodeth wanted to know.

'Call them succubus,' Eden suggested with scorn. 'Or the spawn of the Lamia. That about sums it up.'

'Man-eaters.' Hippsodeth said.

'Yes.'

Darice sighed. 'I hate being misrepresented. I like to think I have more class than that. Unlike genies, who just blindly traipse along in their Master's footsteps...' Eden let out a wordless snarl. 'I rest my case.' She stretched out on the cushions, like a cat.

'Oohhh!' Finna said. 'I want the cute bird!' She waved, and Thundra was immediately transported to the pairaka's arms, and cradled against her bosom. 'Madre de Dios!' the Rainbird squawked. 'Let go of me, you vile creature! I will not --' Suddenly, Thundra's beak vanished. It simply wasn't there anymore. That instantly quieted her.

'What about this inarticulate one?' Rahi said, pointing to Jasmine. 'Does she have a name?'

Jasmine felt the rage building inside her. 'I'm Jasmine, the Princess of Agrabah,' she said, keeping her voice level.

'Agrabah, Agrabah,' Zahra mused. 'Where have I heard that name?'

Darice yawned. 'That's the place Mozenrath always claims he's going to destroy. So far, he hasn't done it.'

'Oh yes! With that street rat who's always --'

'That street rat,' Jasmine said, in a dangerous voice, uncoiling the whip at her side, 'is my fiancee. I'll thank you not to talk that way about him.'

Darice arched an eyebrow, and yawned again. 'Oh. Sorry. The Sultan's this fat little old man, who --'

They all turned at the rasp of steel. Hippsodeth was sliding her short sword from its sheath.

'It appears I've offended someone else,' Darice said, 'or I would have, if I cared. Anyway, why are you here? Diplomatic mission, Princess?' she asked, archly.

'No, we want to find Mozenrath,' Jasmine said, 'so we can make him stop doing whatever he's doing to Agrabah.'

Zahra clapped her hands, slowly and ironically. 'Well done. More power to you. The thing is, we don't know where Mozenrath is. We were expecting him, but he hasn't shown up.'

'Shown up?'

'It's a pairaka thing,' Finna said.

'They feed on him,' Eden said in disgust. 'They're parasitic.'

'No, no, no!' Zahra said, shaking her head. 'We feed on him, it keeps him alive. We don't feed on him, he dies. That's not parasitic, that's symbiotic. Look it up.'

Eden turned away. 'Yeah, right.'

'Well,' Jasmine said, 'I don't suppose you'd tell us if you knew.'

'Why?' Rahi demanded. 'Do we seem loyal to you?'

'Personally,'
Darice said, 'if you're here to put the screws to him, I'd love to come and watch.'

'I wouldn't do it, Jasmine,' Hippsodeth said, 'I don't trust these women.'

Finna, cradling the beakless Thundra, stuck out her tongue.

'What harm can it do?' Zahra coaxed. 'He keeps us prisoners here, and we never get out.'

'Starves us too, the little bastard,' Darice hissed.

'It's against my better judgment,' Jasmine said, 'but all right.'

'Now,' Zahra said, in a voice that would grease axles, 'if you'd just make a path for us across this silver, we can be on our way.'

'Deal,' Jasmine said hesitantly, 'but you give Thundra her beak back, first.'

Zahra snapped her fingers; there was a loud Spanish oath behind her. 'Done.'

'Where would Mozenrath most likely be?' Eden said. 'He's not in the throne room.'

Darice gave a wicked grin. 'I can show you where.'

They all stood -- or perched -- at the head of the bed, and looked on the Lord of the Black Sands. Mozenrath looked peaceful, but he wasn't asleep. He was cool to the touch.

'Well,' Eden said, 'I guess that lets him off the hook.'

'What's wrong with him?' Finna demanded. 'I know he's not dead, but we can't feed off him like this.'

'It's the same thing that affected Agrabah. You have to keep him warm. When we find the source, it should reverse itself.'

Zahra's eyes glittered. 'I like the sound of that. Let's take him back to our place,' she said to Darice, 'and help the poor boy get warm.'

Darice chuckled. 'I'll get his feet.'

The minute the pairaka stepped over the threshold, Eden removed the passage so they were trapped again in the room. The pairaka had become engrossed in Mozenrath, and were too busy to notice.

'Why'd you do that?' Jasmine said. 'You're leaving Mozenrath to their tender mercies?'

'Partly,' the genie said. 'I want them in there because it makes us safer.'

'Oh.'

They stood in the royal garden, and looked at the cherry tree. It no longer looked robust. Most of the blossoms had fallen, and the tree appeared to be dying. Jasmine felt sad. This, she thought, was surely tied up with what had befallen their friends. If only --

There was a commotion behind them, and the sound of steel on steel. The doors to the garden flew open, and a knot of Royal Guards slowly backed outside. Rasuul, still in the guise of the Sultan, was at their head, screaming at them to hold their ground. The thing facing them was a young man, head shaven, hair drawn into a long topknot. He seemed swathed in thick mist. After a moment, Jasmine realized he was translucent: she could see the walls of the Palace through his body. Shade or no, the young man's blades were definitely real. One long, one short. They looked --she gasped. There was a fiery pain in her shoulder. Queen Hippsodeth's hand, calloused, strong, was gripping it like a claw.

'The swords,' Jasmine mumbled.

'Tanada Gentarou no tou,' Hippsodeth said. 'The swords of Tanada Gentarou. Dai-sho. Big, little. He loved the spirit of a cherry tree. She --'

The Gallifeme glanced behind her. Mist was surrounding the base of the tree. Snow was falling above its crown. And in the midst of the swirling, was a young woman, dark of hair, sad of face and eye. 'Gentarou! Watashi ga, Gentarou!' Gentarou! It is I, Gentarou!

The young man heard her, and pressed his attack. The steel rang and rang. A guard collapsed, screaming, hand clasped to a deep cut across his forearm. The samurai went through the rest of them like a scythe through wheat. Rasuul, who'd been forced clear in the press of the attack, bellowed, and lifted his tulwar. The young man saw him, and grinned. Rasuul moved to meet him, sword raised.

'No!' Eden shouted, teleporting in front of him. 'I'll handle him! She conjured a suit of armour, and a massive two-handed sword from nothingness, and stepped forward. The young man paused.

'Sakura?' he said quietly. 'Sakura ga?'

Eden shook her head. 'No. Not me.'

The young man seemed to nod. He stepped forward, bowed from the waist, and held his swords up. Eden held her own sword across her body. The young man's attack came quickly, almost overwhelming the genie's supernatural reflexes. She was forced to vapourise to avoid cuts she couldn't block. This display of invincibility infuriated him, and he screamed, intensifying his assault, the swords humming like a swarm of bees.

Jasmine gasped. Hippsodeth's fingers were digging in again. She was muttering again. 'Yuki-onna...the woman of snow...freezes men to death...women transformed to monsters through grief and jealousy...what is it about that story?'

Despite her invincibility, the genie was being forced back. Jasmine looked behind her. The girl, spirit -- was straining forward -- trying to reach the samurai that was her lover, but pressing against an invisible barrier. She couldn't move, because...

'Jasmine!' Hippsodeth said
suddenly, sharply. She looked at the Gallifeme Queen, startled. 'Run to your father's throne room, and get the swords.' She actually slapped the Princess on her bottom, like a mother correcting a child. 'Now!'

Jasmine broke free of her paralysis, and ran.

Eden stepped aside. It was no good. Neither of them could hurt each other, and she had nothing against the man, anyway. He was only trying to see the woman he loved, while she only wanted to prevent him from hurting innocent people. It served no purpose to keep him from that. She bowed, as she had seen him do, and moved away.

'Go ahead.' She pointed to the tree. 'She's waiting.'

The young man tried to step forward...and couldn't do it. His foot strained...trying to breach an invisible barrier. His translucent face showed clearly the agony and strain he was under. He tried, he sweated, he strained. To no avail. Then, abruptly, he composed his face, and settled on the ground, kneeling, buttocks on heels. He pulled off his armour, and put his kimono aside, to expose his stomach. Then he placed the short sword, the wakizashi, in front of him.

With a sick feeling, Eden knew what he was going to do.

The wakizashi, the shorter blade, is used in ritual suicide, Hippsodeth said. The men disembowel themselves...

Heart in mouth, Jasmine ran, the swords in her hands. She had an inkling of what Hippsodeth had in mind. The way the man had addressed Eden: he seemed to think she was the spirit of his love. And the young woman, made of snow. Had she come to Aladdin and her father, even the Genie and Iago, weeping, thinking them to be her own lost love, even as she froze them to death? Being lonely, meaning no harm, but killing them because of a love unfulfilled?

Jasmine thought that might be the case.

'He's going to kill himself!' Eden said hoarsely.

'He's already dead,' Hippsodeth said. 'That won't change anything. The woman thought Aladdin and the Sultan were him; poor creature. She froze them, and all she meant to show them was affection. I guess she did that to Mozenrath too. We have to convince her she's wrong.'

'But,' Eden said, 'if she sees him kill himself, and realises Iago, the Sultan, Aladdin, and Genie, are not him, what do you think will happen then?'

'I just hope,' the Queen of the Gallifemes said in a small voice, 'that Jasmine comes up with those swords in time.'

'Si,' Thundra said quietly. 'So do I.'

Jasmine ran right through Tanada Gentarou. The spirit, reaching for his wakizashi, engrossed in the ritual of seppuku, did not even notice. She ran in front of the cherry tree, eyeing the young woman, with hair as dark as her own, and held up the swords.

'Do you see?' she said quietly. 'Do you see? These are what you want.' She went on her knees, and held the swords out to her. She heard the sobbing, the tinkling of the frozen tears as they cascaded down the girl's cheeks, and waited.

The swords left her hands. The weeping stopped. She looked up.

Swords in hand, the woman took a step forward. Her foot passed that strange barrier without resistance. Weeping now with joy, she ran.

Tanada Gentarou, hearing the weeping, looked up, and saw the woman heading towards him. His features stretched in a smile, and an inarticulate cry of joy burst from his mouth. Leaving the sword, he surged to his feet, and began running. There was no barrier to hold him either.

The two met in the middle of the path, in a brilliant flash of light. All present had to shield their eyes. Then there was a loud ringing sound as the swords struck the path.

When the light faded, no-one was there. The tree bloomed, and the swords lay quietly on the path, as if they'd always been there. A gentle breeze was blowing through the garden.

To those present, it sounded like joyous laughter.

Jasmine stared in amazement, and would have gone on staring if an excited Faisal had not come up behind her and said: 'Your Highness. Your father, and Aladdin -- they're awake.'

Jasmine found, then, she had tears of her own to cry. They all did.

In the Land of the Black Sand, Mozenrath regained consciousness, and immediately wished he hadn't. He saw green eyes looking into his own, and he didn't like what he saw there. Hair, red as fire or blood, cascaded down onto his bare chest. Bare? Where were his --

'Salaam aleikum, sayiidi Mozenrath,' Zahra said, and smiled.

1. The Yuki-Onna (Snow Woman), and cherry blossom spirits do exist in traditional Japanese myth, as does the idea of jealousy or grief transforming ordinary people into monsters or demons. They are also separate entities. I combined them into a whole for the purpose of this story.
2. The Japanese, Arabic, and Spanish phrases and translations are as accurate as I can understand and make them. Any errors are my own, however I may try to pin them on other people. I have also used the practice of Anglicising the long Japanese o sound with the letters ou, instead of my normal practice of oo.
3. 
   Dedicated to the usual suspects: Stephen Van Vugt, Wendyrath, and Silvestris.