Spring 1851

Tehran

Christine

Raoul had pestered me nearly the rest of the trip. After my illness near Astrakhan, his concern over my well-being intensified. Sometimes I didn't mind; sometimes I really did feel ill and was grateful for his concern. Most of the time, however, I was fine when he insisted on stopping to allow me to rest. I was really, though, very thankful for such a kind husband. He was a very good man, especially considering that he married me in the first place.

His family wasn't enthused with his final decision. He could have had any fine, eligible young lady in Paris – I was an eligible young lady, but I wasn't exactly 'fine.' My mother died when I was one year old, my father never remarried, and being raised by a single father never boded well with society. Having been born with the silver spoon, I noticed my father never felt squeamish about pulling it out when it came to life lessons. He was my best friend growing up, and I considered other girls my age petty, airheaded twits not worthy of merely listening to the conversations my father and I had. Although my father encouraged me to make friends, he never actually enforced it until my governess persuaded him to send me away to a high-society finishing school when I was old enough. I begged him not to make me go; why should I be required to attend when he was a perfectly good teacher? However, he insisted that this would be good for me. There were many angry tears and I left the house on the dreaded day without saying goodbye to him. He died two months later.

"Christine?" Raoul interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to find him watching me. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I said, smiling at him and pulling more things out of a small piece of luggage. We had been moved to a new apartment last night. "I am merely thinking."

He lay down on the bed and continued to watch me. "Of?"

"You," I said softly. I joined him on the bed and curled next to his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. The unpacking could wait until tomorrow. He wrapped an arm around me and sighed.

"Are you sure you will be all right by yourself for a few weeks?" he asked, not for the first time.

"Yes, Raoul," I answered exasperatedly. "We've discussed this before."

We were silent for a moment, contemplative, and suddenly he said, "Well, we are here! How fast the time has gone; it's been months since I've heard about this, and now we are finally here. How do you like it so far?"

"It's very different," I answered truthfully. "It's nothing at all like I expected it to be."

"Yes," he agreed. "My expectations were also thrown out the window." He was silent for a moment, and then said, "Especially about Erik. He's quite a strange fellow, don't you think?"

The thing that had interested me immediately about Erik was his voice. It was incredible! It was unlike anything I had ever heard before, and even the sweet singing of my father's violin seemed to pale in comparison to Erik's rich, powerful timbre. And he had only spoken in a low, monotonous voice most of the evening. I couldn't imagine what his voice would sound like if he were actually interested, engaged, in conversation. Or…(I was excited at the mere thought) if he sang at all.

I took another moment to think of Erik, sitting across the table, still and sullen. "I think he's sad," I said simply.

Raoul laughed slightly. "Sad?"

"Well, he's certainly not happy!" I said. "I want you to be nice to him. Perhaps it takes him a while to warm up to strangers."

Raoul pressed his lips to my forehead and said, "I'll do whatever you want, Christine." I smiled.

Unpacking was difficult. I hadn't realized that I had brought so much luggage until I tried to find places to put all of my things. By midmorning, I was standing in a large mess while a handmaid tried to help me. She was pushing things in my hands and taking things out, and all of the rooms were in a disorderly clutter. I stood in the midst of them, trying to flatten my flyaway hair, when there was a knock on the door.

The lady with me answered the door, and there was a slight squeal followed by rapid speech. I went to the door and found her on the floor, her entire body bowed toward a tall masked man. Erik spoke coldly to her, and she shuffled away, her eyes downcast.

"Good morning," I said politely. "Is it customary for me to bow like that?"

"No," he said, apparently not amused. "Is your husband here?"

"I'm afraid he's out," I said worriedly. "Out…somewhere. I'm not sure where he is. You're perfectly welcome to wait for him here. I'm sure he'll return soon."

"I actually must – "

Without waiting, I closed the door behind him and led him inside. "I'm terribly sorry about the mess," I said. "You've found me in the middle of unpacking."

I watched him eye the chaotic room. Then I realized that he and I were both French and that hospitality was just as good here as it was in Paris.

"I will get you some tea," I said. "Though I'm not sure how to light the little stove. I've been trying to get her to teach me all morning, though, unfortunately, it's difficult to understand one another."

Somehow, Erik called back the handmaid, where she trembled as he spoke to her. She answered all of his questions in something of a terrified whisper. She then led him to the stove, where she pointed and spoke to him further. I stood watching from the threshold as Erik examined it.

"Murina says that your stove is broken," he said.

"Murina?" I said. "That is her name? Oh, I'm so glad to know!"

"You didn't know before?" he asked me, fixing me with an unusually piercing stare.

"I tried to ask, but it was difficult," I said, somewhat defensively.

"It is not that difficult," he said, leaving the small kitchen. I was momentarily stunned by his rude manners but then followed him back into the sitting room, where he was eyeing some discarded books. He picked one up and then looked at me.

"The Magic Flute?" he asked. It was my manuscript Raoul had obtained for me. "You enjoy opera?"

"Very much so," I said. "Mozart is my particular favorite."

Erik then asked, "Does your husband enjoy it as well?"

I laughed. "No, not very much. Raoul says he doesn't see the point in Papageno and endings where everyone either dies or marries."

He was silent and put my manuscript back where it was. "Murina says she was sent here to help you. My advice to you is not to send her back. Use her as much as you can."

"Why?" I asked. "I am quite capable of caring for myself. The poor woman doesn't need to wait on me. I'm sure she has other things to do."

He looked at me once again, and his gaze was intense and strange. "Do not send her away."

"Very well," I said, baffled slightly. Erik then became aloof and impersonal once again…well, more so.

"I've come to give these plans to your husband," he said, drawing out a long roll of parchment from underneath his cloak. "I ask you to deliver these to him and remind him of the small party leaving tomorrow morning. We will not wait for idlers."

With a stiff, reluctant bow, he handed me the roll of parchment and left. I was left slightly flustered at his visit. What a peculiar man! I began to try to tidy up the mess, but I merely moved it around even more.

Raoul laughed when he came in fifteen minutes later. He kissed my cheek and then began to help sort through all of the things.

"Where did you go?" I asked. "I was worried about you."

He gave me a sly smile. "Nowhere."

I knew he wouldn't be able to stand not telling me (he was always a horrible liar), so I simply began to go back to the mess. Quickly enough, Raoul presented me with a very pretty ring. It was brass with turquoise stones placed in the middle. I thanked him warmly and slipped it onto my right hand.

"I have something for you, too," I said, "though I'm afraid it's not quite as pleasant."

When I gave Raoul the plans, I told him of Erik's visit and what he said. I then tried to introduce Raoul to Murina, but she seemed confused and spent a lot of time shaking her head. Raoul laughed and said,

"We must learn Persian while we're here, Christine. Have her teach you some while I'm away. This interpreting game is too hard for me."

Raoul managed to fix the little stove, and I made weak tea for the two of us. He spread out the plans and studied them intently, running his fingers over the sketches and murmuring things.

"How is it?" I asked, coming to stand next to him. He smiled at me and said,

"Quite possibly the most brilliant plans I've ever seen. There is such a use of natural elements here. Nothing is cluttered or unnecessary. Look here." He ran a finger over broad lines. "Look at the simplicity of the outlying structure. The entire building is…efficient. It's as if the building simply grew out of the earth. Not meaning that the structure will be made out of ordinary rock, but it's flawless in its design." He mused for a moment. "I understand now why Erik has such fame; he deserves it."

"He certainly seems to be a clever man," I agreed. "If he's advising the shah and the khanum and building palaces all at the same time…"

"I'm anxious to see how it will all fall into place," Raoul said, turning his attention back toward the sketches. "It's quite an honor to be chosen to be partners with the man who designed this."

"You deserve it," I said.

He smiled gratefully.

There was only slight sadness when he left the next morning. We would see each other very soon, he promised me. He then kissed me and left.

The few weeks passed quickly enough. I managed to unpack everything and put it all into proper places. Murina finally understood that I wanted to begin learning her language, and we spent many hours simply exchanging words back and forth. I would point to something and say its name in my language, and she would repeat it in hers.

One afternoon, she took me to a bazaar. It was a terrifying experience. I had never seen so many people so close together. There seemed to be no privacy whatsoever. It was not uncommon to be jostled and bumped into continuously. Furthermore, my appearance created quite a stir. Women and men alike surrounded me, touched my clothing, and said things I could not understand. Murina shooed most of them away with loud, angry calls, which I had never seen her do before, but some remained, staring at me. One woman even reached up and touched my hair. I looked helplessly at Murina. Quite suddenly, she slapped the offending woman and shouted at her. The woman muttered angrily under her breath and skulked back to a little booth.

Murina finally took me back to the apartments, and I collapsed into a chair, shaking.

"France," said Murina suddenly. I looked at her; she was gesturing toward me and shrugging her shoulders. "France," she repeated. She grabbed my skirts briefly and shrugged again. Unsure of what it meant, I simply smiled at her. She brought me tea – which I had taught her to prepare – and I thanked her gratefully.

A few days later, there was a knock on my door in mid-afternoon. Murina answered it, and there was a repeating of a scream, followed by quick words. Now knowing who to expect, I went to the door to find Erik there. He, once again, spoke to Murina, who hurriedly disappeared into another room.

After greeting him and inviting him inside, I asked, "Why does she do that?"

He was silent and then replied, "Because it is custom." Without waiting for me to say anything else, he continued, "I'm here to tell you that I will be returning to the palace site in about four days. Your husband has requested that I bring you along."

"How wonderful!" I said, smiling. When he didn't reply, my smile faltered, and I said, "I'll be sure to be ready."

He left quickly. I wanted to ask him about the bazaar, but he did not seem to be in a cheerful mood; he never was, actually. I then wanted to talk to Murina about him, but we were still learning basic words. Never mind those things; in a week or so, I would be able to see Raoul again. I was very excited.

So why did I feel as if something dreadful was going to happen?