The next day, I went back to the fair. Once more, it was bustling with life, all around booths and tents beckoning, merchants shouting their wares in harsh barking tones. I was fascinated by this little world within a city, where anything and everything was allowed and accepted. However, I was beginning to wish that I was back in my own land, where the tongues of those pushing their products on me would form the familiar syllables of my own native language. I would not allow myself to leave, though, until I had this strange man as a part of my traveling party. If I did not, it would result in the loss of many dear things in my life: my job, my savings—my head.
As I walked up to the tent, the bitter wind of the fall air bit my nose and cheeks and I hastened through the early-morning darkness towards my target. The tent stood as grandly as it had the day before, once more enticing me at once. The same large, bearded man pulled the flap aside for me, but this time with a rather puzzled look upon his face. No doubt, I was the first man to see the wonders the tent's red folds of fabric held and then return to see them again. I assure you, if my life had not depended on it, I would have abandoned the pursuit of that arrogant little... But I could not, and so I entered.
He was seated once more in his chair, looking like some kind of Greek god except for the mask covering his face. In his lap was a book, beaten and worn, the pages falling out, which he was flipping through lazily. It was titled, simply, Ventriloquism. I approached him quietly so as not to disturb him, but without even glancing up, when I was five feet away from him he smirked and muttered to himself,
"And so the fly returns."
It shocked me that he could have known who had entered without my having made a single identifying noise or movement. I was intrigued.
"Sir—how did you know it was I?"
"It is simple, Daroga. Your left boot has an odd little squeak to it, you walk with your legs close together, so your pant legs can be heard rubbing against one another, and you filled the room with reluctance as soon as you stepped in." The way he said this as though it should have been obvious to an infant bemused me, but he continued. "What is it this time?"
"The same as last time, I'm afraid, His godliness—"
"What did I say about that title, Daroga?!?" He glared up at me now, and in the darkness of the pre-dawn morning, his eyes shone gold once more.
"You...you thought it...inappropriate, sir?"
"Hah!" he barked. "Inappropriate... Tell me, Daroga, do you truly think that I will ever give in to your feeble attempts? Neither you, nor 'his godliness' impress me one bit, and I have no interest in seeing your wretched country again." With that, he sunk once more into his chair, this time laying the book gently down upon the table. I decided to go a different route.
"What was that you were reading just now?"
"Oh, that," he sighed, stroking the book's bindings gently. "Merely a gift from long ago."
"Do you study ventriloquism, sir?" I was hoping if I kept him talking like this, I would detect a weak point not yet noticed.
"Do I study—Daroga, do you see this book?" He gesticulated at it fiercely. "Does that look like an under-read piece of literature to you?" I smiled slightly at his sarcasm.
"No, sir, I can't say it does. Could you give me a sample of your skills, then?" This time it was he who smiled. He heaved a sigh and sunk back into his chair.
Suddenly, from just outside of the tent, I heard the bearded man.
"You know, Erik, that pesky fly just doesn't seem to leave."
Astonished by the man's rudeness, I strode quickly to the door, pulled open the flap, and was preparing to tell off that insolent manservant, when I noticed that he was no longer outside of the tent. Confused, I turned back to the man, this "Erik" in the chair.
He chuckled softly. A whisper came beside my left ear.
"Yes, you could say it's a hobby of mine." I started and walked briskly over to him.
"Where did you learn such a thing?"
"A bit of reading goes a long way, sir." He petted his book lovingly, a mixture between nostalgia and wistfulness in his eyes.
"Who gave you that book? You mentioned its being a gift."
At these words, the look in his eyes changed to annoyance.
"What is it, exactly, that you want, Daroga?"
"To put it bluntly, I need you to cooperate. If I come back to the Shah empty-handed, it will be my head, sir, and my son has no mother to care for him." I felt tears fill my eyes. "I need you to do as I say, sir, please."
The anger left his eyes and he rose, like a raven, from his chair.
"Do you really let that man control your life so much?"
"I have no choice but to serve his majesty well."
He stood, pensively stroking his mask-clad chin, for a few moments and then spoke hesitantly, reluctantly, like one who knows there is no going back.
"Very well, Daroga. I will indulge you and your Shah." He looked about the tent, eyeing his few possessions. "We leave tomorrow morning."
"Tomorr— Sir, I was not prepared for this! I have packing, arranging...payments to be made! It will take at least a few days!"
He walked to the door he had left through the day before, pausing just before exiting through it to turn to face me. He spoke decisively, with a power that left me speechless.
"We leave tomorrow morning."
And with that, he was gone. I had nothing left to do but rush back to my rooms at the inn and inform my manservant, Darius, to have everything packed and ready to leave at 6:00 in the morning for the ventriloquist's tent. Little did I know then that, looking back, I would wish I had chosen the Shah's wrath over a companionship with this Angel of Death.