Prologue

The mariner stared out at the endless sea before him. If he squinted his eyes and tilted his head just so, he could almost imagine that the waves were dunes of sand, undulating and rippling in the heat of the sun. The squawking of the seagulls hovering above the lone sail that powered his vessel could be, if he listened hard enough, the calls of the camels on the way to market. The sun, though, that was the same—on land or sea.

The mariner sighed. He loved the wildness and freedom of the open ocean. He adored waking at his leisure and doing what he wanted with the day, answering to no one but himself and his family. But he did, at times, miss his home in the sands of the desert.

Hearing an excited shout, the man smiled, the expression brightening his handsome face. The touch of longing disappeared, and he appeared to light up from within. Turning, he looked over at the cause of his happiness. His two children, Lindy and Barro, had come above deck and were leaning over the railing.

"Wow," Lindy said.

"Wow," repeated her younger brother.

Following their gazes, the mariner looked over the railing of his modest ship and saw, in the distance, a not-so-modest ship sailing toward them. It was huge, with many masts boasting brilliantly colored sails. While the sides of the mariner's boat were peeled and in need of a coat of paint, the sides of the other ship were gleaming as if freshly painted that morning. Manning the decks were sailors wearing spotless clothes and, squinting, the mariner could make out elaborate decorations covering the masts and railings.

"Wish ours was that fancy," Barro said with a sigh.

The mariner turned back to his children and raised one eyebrow. "Why? Because it looks better?" He waited for an answer. Getting nothing but shrugs, he went on. "This boat has taken us through many a storm. It might not look like much, but it has something theirs never will ...."

"Wood rot and rats?" Barro asked, teasing his father.

The mariner shot his son a look. "Turn around, close your eyes. Now feel how our boat beats with the rhythm of the great unknown. That is its heart. Understand that true value lies deep within." He paused, watching as his two beautiful children listened to his words. At nine and six they were still so young. More than anything, he wanted them to hold on to that innocence. "Now, which ship would you rather have?" he finally asked, when he had given them time to think.

The children's eyes popped open. They glanced at each other. And then, in unison, they answered, "Theirs."

The mariner groaned as the kids began to giggle. Apparently, his lesson had gone unlearned. He needed a new approach. Some way to make his children see how lucky they were to have the waves be their backyard and the ship, their schoolroom. How lucky they were to live each day with grand possibilities and adventure. The mariner narrowed his eyes. How could he get them to see what he wanted them to see?

Then a smile began to tug at his lips. What he needed was a story. And he happened to know a very good one. "I think it's time I told you the story of Aladdin and the princess and the lamp."

Lindy made a face. "What's so special about a lamp ?" she asked.

"It's a magic lamp ...."

The children exchanged a skeptical look. But then they shrugged. "We're listening," Barro said.

"Well, listen carefully. Because looks can be deceiving. Especially in a place like ... Agrabah!"