Jafar seemed to understand he was outnumbered. He looked between them like a fan at a tennis match.
“Hang in there with me,” she said.
“Hanging,” Maybeck said.
Jafar raised his thin, hideous hand and said, “Don’t make me do something I’d rather not.”
But Willa kept moving ever so slowly toward the display carousel and the merchandise it contained: necklaces, fans, hand mirrors, Aladdin turbans, scarves, and more.
Jafar said, “You
“You are one generous dude,” Maybeck said. “And right now I’m thinking there’s no one we’d rather give our magic to than you. Trouble is, right now, we can’t be giving our magic out in the open. You know? We bring the magic, and next thing you know all those people out there are going to want it. And that’s no good for any of us. You with me?”
Jafar trained his yellow eyes onto Maybeck, stopping him in his tracks.
“You don’t have it, do you?” Jafar sounded crushed and angry. Extremely angry. “I misjudged you. Magic is not something you can leave behind. One either has it or not. And if you don’t have it, you are of no use to me.”
Willa had to hope not only that her current line of thinking was correct, but that she had perfect pitch. She also had to remember back to second grade-which for her had been an unpleasant time, when her two front teeth had been roughly the size of her thumbnails, and her classmates had teased her for being so ugly.
She grabbed hold of a snake-charmer’s flute from the display carousel. In second grade, it had been a recorder flute for the Christmas show. She drew it to her mouth, and played a haunting melody from a faraway land that she’d just heard inside the store.
Within the first few notes of the snake-charming melody, Jafar slapped his ugly hands over his large ears and backed away from her, already beginning to sink to the ground, shrinking away like a snake inside a wicker basket.
Maybeck looked on in amazement. “How did you-?”
“Shut up! Get ready to run.”
“I do not need to get ready. I am so out of here.”
“Come over behind me.”
Maybeck slid over behind Willa and, with her continuing to play the melody, the two backed away from the recoiling Jafar.
She dropped the flute.
They turned and ran.
Finn stood in the front row of the crowd of the hundred or so people surrounding a roped-off area designated for the Chinese acrobats. Fireworks tore holes in the sky, as a coach and a group of twelve girls and eight boys appeared in gymnastics uniforms. The crowd broke into applause.
The girls were mostly all tiny and young, wearing light blue leotards, all with basically the same bob-and- straight-bangs haircut. The somewhat older Chinese boys formed a line behind, hands clasped behind their backs, flexing their arm muscles, and awaiting their turn. It took a moment for Finn to recognize the third-to-last girl in line as Charlene. She wore a wig that matched the other girls’. With the addition of some eye makeup and blush, she blended in surprisingly well. But just seeing her there made Finn think how stupid a plan this was. There had to have been a better way than this to get the spindle. But there was no turning back now.
The coach-a strong looking older guy with a bald head-clapped his hands twice and the show began. Finn looked away, not wanting to see what a fool Charlene was about to make of herself. Despite her claim that she’d seen the routine “enough times to know it by heart,” Finn knew that seeing it and being able to
No collective gasp. Finn squinted one eye open, surprised to see Charlene flying through a hoop and landing in a somersault. The crowd cheered.
Not only did she know the routines, but she executed them flawlessly. Flying bodies, camera flashes, and a cheering crowd occupied the next several minutes.
A roar erupted celebrating a standing pyramid-four girls across on the bottom row, Charlene one of them.
All at once, Finn felt a hand on his right shoulder-a very hard hand. Then another on his left shoulder. He was in the grasp of two mean-looking warriors-Huns-with severe brows and narrow eyes. They wore ancient, decorative armor and were incredibly intimidating to look at.
The spectators around Finn stepped back and took pictures.
Finn glanced toward Charlene, who was no longer in the pyramid. The girls had stood to the side: it was the boys’ turn. More applause.
The two guards hauled Finn out of the crowd, as video and digital cameras captured it all.
There was no messing with these guys; their grip unrelenting as they marched him toward a circular building that looked like a giant hat.
Finn said, “I’m actually more interested in the acrobats than a private tour.”
They said nothing. He wasn’t even sure they spoke English. They tossed him through an open door and then turned their backs, blocking him from leaving.
He was standing in a vast, circular room, the air still. Chinese lute music played. A haze filled the air, streaked by flickering light from projectors. Film footage of Chinese landscapes played on the 360-degree screen. Finn looked for any marked exit signs, and saw only the one being guarded by the two men behind him.
He heard footsteps in spite of the loud music. A cold shiver passed through him as Shan-Yu from
Leader of the Huns, a barbarian warlord, Shan-Yu’s shoulders were wide, his head large, and his expression fierce. He wore a thin, wispy mustache on an otherwise brutal face.
“You are leader?” he asked, his voice heavily accented.
“Me?” Finn said, putting the sunglasses up onto the cap. “I’m just a Park visitor.”
“The Invisible Ones. You are leader?”
Invisible Ones, Finn thought. That was new.
“Yes. That would be me.”
“Tell your emperor to send his strongest armies. I’m ready,” the warrior said.
“I have no emperor,” Finn said. “We have no army.”
“Only emperor have no emperor. You do not look like emperor.”
“I am
“Then tell your emperor to send his strongest army.”
“Why would he do that?” Finn asked.
“Leader of Invisible Ones, I am not afraid.”
“Of me? I mean you no harm. What exactly do you want?”
“What does every man want?” Shan-Yu asked.
An Xbox? A PS3? Finn thought. “Immortality,” he answered.
Shan-Yu appeared impressed.
“How is immortality achieved?” he asked.
“By doing greatness. Or,” Finn added, “great evil.”
“By winning wars. By commanding empires. The gods approve of those who do their bidding.”
Finn had studied China in fifth grade. He understood there had been child emperors younger than he was, so he couldn’t play the kid card. Instead, he thought the better idea was to impress Shan-Yu. Or try to.
“But is not the man who builds the bridge for the army more important than the army?” he asked. “The man who makes the bows more important than the archer? The man who trains the horse more important than the rider?”
Shan-Yu answered, “The man who commands the army is more important than all of them, for the army does