Autumn 1851

Tehran

Erik

Political unrest began to seep through Tehran. There had been too many uneventful days, and the men at court were getting antsy. I knew that I could do my fair share…The whispered words of Mirza Taqui Khan had long since reached my ears, and I knew what the man thought of me. If he wished to arrange his own manner of death, so be it. It did not matter if he was the shah's brother-in-law. One word could have his head spinning across a courtyard. But I waited; I was patient. I watched him coolly, taking pleasure in the fact that I would be deciding his fate and that he knew nothing of it.

The shah asked Nadir about the palace, about the men, about Chagny. Nadir told him all he wished to hear, and I knew that the shah would be appeased for another few months.

The khanum, however, was never appeased. No, she demanded more, more, more…More tortures, more barbaric murders, more blood, more violence…There was no grace in her preferred methods of killing. I had always believed it was some kind of art form – there was a sort of elegance about it if one did it properly. But no, she wanted blood everywhere: blood on the ground, blood on me, limbs twisted and mangled. I found myself returning to my chambers and scrubbing myself furiously, trying to rid myself of this unclean feeling that had gradually crept over me in the recent weeks.

Once, after a particularly violent murder, I returned and began to search hurriedly for hashish, pulling out chests, ripping open boxes, my usually steady hands shaking from the need. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, taking in a stabling breath. Then I resumed my searching.

I was just going to go out and purchase some when there was a soft knock on the door. Cursing the intruder, I went to the door and yanked it open, only to falter. It was Madame de Chagny, smiling benignly at me.

"Good afternoon," she said. "Or, should I say, salaam."

I was silent, stunned, shocked. It was strange to imagine that simple cordialities still existed in this world, that people shook hands and bade each other good mornings and good evenings. My silence must have unnerved her, because she said quickly,

"Have I come at a bad time? Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I should have realized – you are very busy…I've come many times only to find you absent. But if you are just leaving, I will…"

"No," I managed to say. "No, I was not leaving."

"Oh, good," she sighed. Her smile came back. "I have brought tea. Murina…Murina, do come here and stop that. She is so terrified whenever we come here. I can't imagine why!" Her maidservant shuffled into view, carrying a wrapped, slightly steaming teapot in her hands.

"Would you like some?" Madame de Chagny asked. Wordlessly, I stepped aside to allow her to enter. Her large skirts brushed the hem of my pants, and she took a seat, very delicately, and had the tea brought before her.

"I hope you like tea with milk, because it's the only kind I know how to make." She laughed and poured two cups. Steam rose slightly from the small porcelain glasses. I took a hesitant seat across from her, watching as she unpinned her hat and took a cup. A few minutes passed; she still had a smile on her face. Her little handmaiden was in a corner, staring at the floor.

"Do you not enjoy tea?" Madame de Chagny said suddenly. I looked to find her gazing worriedly at me.

"I do," I said quietly. "However, I find it difficult to drink with a mask."

There was silence; it was the first time I had ever mentioned my mask to either of the Chagnys, and Madame de Chagny turned a delicate shade of red.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I hadn't even thought – how silly of me! I'm very sorry if I offended you. It wasn't my intention at all!"

"I am not offended," I said. She fell silent, gazing at me.

"May I inquire – ?" she began timidly.

"No," I snapped. "You may not." There was a moment of deep, embarrassed silence from her. Bracingly, I said, "How are you enjoying your stay in Tehran?"

She set her cup down. "It's very different from anything I've known," she said. "Customs and traditions here are so…unique, and I'm not quite sure I will ever understand them all."

"Muslims feel the same way about Christianity," I said. "A Persian would be the same way if he traveled to the Western part of the world."

"I have been meaning to ask you a few things," she said, glancing at me. I motioned for her to continue. "In the bazaar, I am always stared at – by men, women, children. Everyone stares. It's quite unnerving."

I shrugged. "You are a European woman. It creates quite a stir."

She took her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment and then said, "I see women wearing these…shawls over their heads. I am unsure as to what they are."

"They are called chadors," I said, watching her closely. "Here, private life is very different from public life. It is said that a wife's face is her husband's business only. It is also protection for the woman, in some ways."

"What ways?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

I gazed at her, feeling the silence deaden, and the gentle flush returned to her cheeks. "Many ways," I said quietly.

She attempted to lighten the situation yet failed miserably. "Have you ever been married, Erik?"

I, once again, stared at her for a very long time. Did I seem the type of man to marry? "No," I said coldly. "I have no time for nuptial frivolities."

Awkwardly, she picked up her teacup once again and played with it, circling it in her fingers.

"What do you have time for?" she said, her voice hesitant. "You build palaces and advise kings and entertain their mothers all at the same time."

"Precious little," I said. "My interests are here, for now."

"What do you intend to do when you leave Persia?"

I knew she was simply trying to be polite, to appear interested in my doings, but she did not know that I was not the one to respond well to personal questions. I tried to make my tone as cordial as possible.

"Many things."

"Will you return to France?" she asked. "You were born there, were you not?"

"Yes, I was," I said, shunting away memories of my childhood as quickly as I could. "And no, I do not plan to return to France."

"Oh?" she said. "Don't you ever get homesick? Doesn't your mother worry over you if she isn't able to see you?"

"Hardly," I said, my teeth clenched. I felt my hands tighten on my thighs. She must have sensed my mood tense, for she cleared her throat and asked nothing more. Not long after, she was cleaning up to leave, her face still slightly flushed from embarrassment.

"Oh," she said, stopping and putting a hand to her cheek. "I almost forgot…I have a letter for Raoul. Murina has it. Murina…the letter? The letter – the paper with words on it." Her little servant girl looked at her blankly, unable to interpret this.

"The letter," I said, addressing the girl in Persian.

She did not look at me but instead pulled out the letter and handed it to Madame de Chagny.

"Thank you," Madame de Chagny said to me, smiling. She held the note out, and I finally took it, after allowing a moment of silence to slip by. Many times, not saying anything can make a greater impression. She cleared her throat once again and finished gathering all the things she had brought with her.

"Oh!" she said for the third time, straightening and looking at me. "That would be wonderful – but no. What am I even thinking?" She went to the door.

"Excuse me?" I said, frowning behind my mask.

"I was simply – simply thinking," she said, beginning to sound rather flustered. Her speech grew faster, and she said, "I have no one to talk to while I'm here – except you, of course…And Raoul said that I must learn some Persian whilst we're here. And I thought that no one would make a more suitable teacher than you. But you are so busy!" She smiled nervously. "It is a bad idea – I'm sorry to have brought it up."

"I would be happy to teach you," I said blankly, instantly. It came out without thought, without even a moment's hesitation.

"Really?" she said, looking overjoyed. She suddenly did not seem like a married woman anymore – she seemed more like an excited, eager child. "Oh, thank you, Erik! Thank you very much. And please don't teach me when you've something else, something important, to do – only while you have free time. And I will study very hard, I promise. I've been complimented on being a good student. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know."

I opened the door, cutting off her inane babble. "Khoda-hafaz, Madame," I said pointedly. She looked at me perplexedly. "It means farewell," I said. She smiled and tried to repeat it, but it sounded unintelligible on her tongue. She then left, her servant girl trailing behind her. I looked after them for a long time, thinking.

Sometimes I wished I wasn't…the way I was. Many times, in fact. Many times I wondered what it would be like to simply be an average human – average in looks, intelligence, income…I wondered if they were happier than I. They should be! They should be grateful for their non-extremities. But if I was born with a face like this but average talents and intelligence, I knew I would not be alive right now. My talents had kept me going, allowed me to serve some type of purpose in this world. And that was all I really wanted…A purpose. There had to be some reason I was alive. I could not believe that I was simply a mistake, something that was never meant to be. There could be no way for me to continue if I knew that I had no reason to live.

When I brooded this way, I would usually end by pulling out my hashish. However, my late abstinence from the drug was something I found I simply did. I spent more time with my violin and architecture than with my pipe. It was no different that time. I composed a new piece that night and spent many hours playing it.

I was to return to the site in four days, but there was still one more murder to carry out and one more to arrange. A young man had been accused of witchcraft, and I was to prepare his manner of death. It involved fire…and knives…and rope…and other sorts of discomforting items that made the young man turn white as a sheet when his torture, and then subsequent execution, was announced. The arranged murder was Mirza Taqui Khan. He had been sitting in his own pride for too long, and I was growing tired of his petulance. It was a shame that I had to kill him, I sometimes thought. He wanted good things for Persia: he wished for Persia to become a civilized country, to be educated and wealthy and ally itself with foreign powers. But the country was steeped in harsh, unchangeable traditions. The shah would not allow himself to be persuaded. I simply had to wait for the right time – the time when the shah was especially displeased with his brother-in-law.

The four days passed with no such luck. Taqui Khan must have sensed he was treading on dangerous ground, for he kept a level, cool head during all meetings and audiences with the shah. Whenever he passed me, he would whisper something vile to one of his cohorts – something that I usually caught and always had to do with the words "monster" and "creature" and "bringer of death." It made me feel that perhaps the khanum was right: there was a time for simple, unchristian bloodlust. I would have to be content, though, to wait a few more weeks. It was obviously not the time.

When I ventured out in the morning, an unexpected sight greeted me. Madame de Chagny was there, waiting for me. She smiled when I approached.

"Are you to return to the site?" I asked.

Her smile grew just a little. "Not this time, I'm afraid," she said. "I wanted to thank you again – for agreeing to teach me."

I made no comment. She shifted uncomfortably before holding something out to me.

"Here," she said. "I know it will probably seem dreadfully silly to you, but I hope it's a nice gesture."

I examined the little string necklace. It had a small pouch at the bottom and smelled faintly of spices.

"An amulet?" I asked skeptically.

Her smile returned. "I felt dreadfully wicked buying it, so I brought this along with me." She then presented me with a small rosary. "Whichever one works," she said cheerfully. "I hope you have a safe journey."

I left her, almost speechless. I could have tossed both of the gifts aside, being neither religious nor superstitious. But I didn't. I kept them.