One way or another.
Erik looked at her, the color still high on her cheeks from anger, her lips pursed in unhappy confusion.
She was frightened, and he had no better promise to offer than the one he gave.
Later in the night, when she had retreated to her own room, he lay alone in the dark. The fading drug began its fast, familiar crawl across his skin in a million tiny pricks of glass, as his stomach began to knot and turn. Erik remembered once as a child, when he had picked up one of the beautiful, glowing embers out of the fire. The numb shock followed by the searing pain and subsequent beating were still a clear memory nearly twenty years later.
Why, Ella had asked, with hot, startled eyes.
I don't know.
Her lips had burned like her eyes, going soft with shock before turning to marble.
There were a million reasons he should ignore her protests and send her away alone. Yet even now, with the Sultana's guards posted everywhere to prevent any ideas of escape, he knew he would not. There had to be a way to smuggle them both out of the country…
He thought of this as the absence of the drug sent the dark shadows of the room spinning in painful fragments, the very walls seeming to close in until the room seemed little larger than a coffin and he feared he would suffocate. The room was too hot – he was drenched in sweat – and when the vomiting started in the early hours of the morning and he gave into the steady pull. The morphine flooded his veins beautifully, serenely, as his mind slowed and calmed.
There will be other palaces, Ella had once said. Erik frowned, thinking of a letter he had received earlier, intriguing but no doubt screened by the Sultana's officers. It would mean hiding in plain sight, but the appointment may serve our purpose...
All I need is a little time to make the arrangements, and a way out of Persia.
He timed his visit carefully – the Daroga would be sure to pounce on any pronounced signs of the morphine with a painfully boring lecture. Even with this precise timing, the Daroga did not spare his choice of words.
"I see you are in your right mind – for once," the Daroga observed sharply as Erik entered his offices. Papers were stacked up on his desk, and he frowned over the mess. "I am very busy here – I have no time to send out for your poison. You will have to find some other errand boy to fill your pipe."
"I have not come to discuss that. I am leaving Persia."
The Daroga's eyebrows shot up to his graying hairline. "Do you not know? The guards are instructed to watch you. You have angered far too many people with your insolence."
"Which is why we are leaving within a fortnight."
"We?"
"I am taking the girl with me."
The Daroga looked at him in surprise.
"She will slow you down considerably, and you risk her life." He hesitated a split second too long, eyes flitting momentarily away, then continued, "Leave her here. If you depart from the new palace you will have an advantage in time and distance – I will look after the girl until it is safe to send her away."
He does not think she wishes to come – he thinks to save her. The thought prickled uncomfortably, but he pushed it away.
"I have promised I will take her. She asked me to take her to England. Myself," he added, the words hanging a little too much like a protest in the air.
"It will be more dangerous trying to leave the country."
"But will you help?" Erik demanded bluntly. He watched as the Daroga walked over to a window, gazing at the courtyard and guards below. The Daroga had been a strange ally these years – a pious man in a court where moral was always relative, and a surprisingly humane spot in a bloodthirsty administration. Erik had never completely understood why he had taken it upon himself to serve as a reluctant guide through the court – or when the demands of this self-appointed task would finally prove too much. Finally the Daroga sighed and turned. "What do you want from me?"
"I need you to meet me at the bluffs beyond the new palace – I will tell you the time and place. Be sure you aren't followed, and bring two horses."
…
One way or another.
The words lingered in Ella's mind. For the first time she cursed the years spent mourning her home at an aloof distance from the harem's bustle. Distance would not save them in this case – she needed information from close to the court, and had precious few resources to draw from.
She carried out her reconnaissance in secret. When Erik left the rooms the next day, she took the opportunity to ask one of the kitchen servants she had known from the harem for help arranging an audience with a friend, set up discreetly with the help of a rather large bribe and the pale-faced explanation that no one – not even her own master – could know. The girl's face, first doubtful, had lit up at the sight of the silver wedding silks and the meeting was arranged.
Ella slunk through the quiet corridors, fumbling to find the latch to the hidden passage behind the Sultana's court and becoming hopelessly lost a web of tunnels before finally recognizing the southern wing and her final destination.
Aara was beautiful, with a soft voice and a talent for dance and graceful decorum that had won her the notice of a prince of the court and the honor of a marriage – as a third but favorite wife. The Sultana had hated to see her leave, jealous of her beauty and the easy target it provided for her spite, but Aara's husband had been a long-time favorite with the Shah. Aara hated the Sultana. When she had left the harem she had giddily promised Ella and others to find them all husbands.
Ella had not seen her since, but it was a risk she was willing to take. Aara had been kind to her in the harem, whereas many had not. She might help.
It was a good wager – Aara received her quickly and discreetly, thrilled by the clandestine meeting and a chance to thwart the Sultana in this secret, small way.
"Oh, the court speaks constantly of the sorcerer – poor Ella, how dreadful to be given to the monster! Thank Allah you are alive – I had given you up for dead," Ella waited patiently as Aara paused uneasily, before continuing in a pained whisper. "Are you well? Is he terribly cruel? I heard the most awful rumor that said you were abused horribly, with scars everywhere… and that the Sultana…" here her mouth screwed up bitterly, as if the very name left a bad taste on her tongue, "I have heard far too many tales of her 'amusements'. Perhaps we could hide you among the laundresses…"
"I am well enough," Ella answered hastily, before Aara could form a plan. "Aara, have you heard the Sultana's plans? What of the sorcerer? I am not at the court – what is happening?"
"Well, you must know that the palace is nearly finished – the Shah is planning a great feast before the end of the year, and everyone is invited. There will be food, and entertainment – and my husband says the Sultana has some special entertainment planned, though Allah knows what that is. It is a great secret – they will not announce it until the last moment possible. I am not supposed to know, but I overheard my husband discussing it with his guard. No one knows, not even the Daroga. But don't worry!" Aara continued hastily, as Ella felt the blood drain from her face, "She will not let the sorcerer leave. My husband has said it is just a matter of time before he ends up in one of his own traps – and there is no escaping the palace guard. Oh, Ella – don't look so pale – you are almost free! Surely they would not take you."
Ella managed a tentative, weakly hopeful smile, and chose her next words carefully. "But are you sure…are there many guards?"
Aara paused now, uneasily. "There are, Ella – they are alerted throughout the halls and in the stables and courtyard." Biting her lip, she impulsively took off one of the heavy rings on her hand, and pressed it into Ella's palm. "A bribe," Aara explained simply as Ella felt her fold her own cold fingers over the heavy item and give her hand a small squeeze. "Just in case."
Ella re-entered Erik's apartment soberly, looking at its walls and doors for the first time in months. It had come to seem cheerful – a protective, hidden place in the midst of the danger around them. Ella wondered how long now it had served as a prison cell.
She heard retching from Erik's room, followed by wheezing and choking coughs – a painfully familiar sound over the past few days and nights. She had ignored it quietly, leaving him alone with his miseries. Now she poured a glass of water and wet a small stack of towels in a bowl, then entered the room with a short knock.
Erik was poured over the bed, a messy tangle of pale limbs and sweat-soaked hair and clothing. His mask lay crumpled and discarded next to the washbowl; his bare face was buried in the sheets. She set the water on the table next to the bed, then sat down beside his head.
"There is water on the table when you care for it."
"Get. The hell. Out." the growling rasp emerged, muffled in the bedclothes from the perfectly still form.
She pressed the back of her finger tips against the corner of his sleeve, a painfully fearful reassurance. The sun had begun to set, its slanting rays sifting through the latticed windows and drawing bars of shadow and light across the walls of the disheveled bedroom.
"It will pass – it must," she said in a tone stretched to confidence. "When it does, I must speak to you about the guards."
"They are posted through the hall – yes, I know. The Sultana is bored"
"I fear it is more than that. I – I spoke to an old acquaintance from the harem."
He sat up suddenly, fluidly, turning and hiding his face with one hand as the other brought the black mask up to its normal place. His eyes were bloodshot and sharp, and the beautiful voice was hoarse and threatening.
"What have you done?"
"I went to see a friend, who was kind to me, and asked about the Sultana's plans. She said-"
"Ella, you may have killed us! You have no idea who she has spoken to, or what she said. What did you say, exactly?"
"I asked about the Sultana's plans, and her plans for you, and the court."
"Dear God, you may as well have gone up to the Sultana herself and thanked her for her hospitality. What did she say?"
"The halls are guarded - "
"I know."
"As well as the courtyards and stables. And the Shah is planning a celebration for the new palace at the end of the year."
Erik said nothing to this, but looked around the cluttered room for a moment. "Ella, do you remember the passage I showed you? How the latch catches from the top?"
Ella thought of the hours wasted wandering among those dark tunnels before finding her way. "Yes – some."
"I will show you the entire course later tonight until you know it by heart. Remember it, and be ready to run – thick clothes and your best shoes. There is nothing to do now but wait."
Ella wondered what the tipping point would be. What entertainment could the Sultana be planning?
…
A week later, the eunuchs came again, hard faces impassive and cold as they demanded her presence in the Sultana's chambers.
Ella wanted to scream when they opened the heavy doors to the Sultana's court and she saw a slow, spreading smile light the Sultana's face. Again she lowered her head to the floor, and again Sultana's voice floated above her in a silken whisper.
"Have you heard my sorcerer sing, little one?"
"No, your highness."
"A pity that you did not. You will return to the harem– your master will have little need of your beauty now." Ella felt her hear lurch painfully in her chest, a strange, sick feeling that stole her breath. The Sultana sighed, and Ella suddenly hated her all the more fiercely for her melodramatic pout. "We will have to find a new use for your talents. After all, you were the inspiration for one of my favorite amusements… and I was to have such fun…"
She flicked her wrist, and irritable sign of dismissal, and Ella backed quietly out of the room as her heart hammered in her chest.
"Your master will have little need…" She inwardly cursed him roundly – Erik, who was always so sure of everything and full of cryptic plans – waiting and dragging his feet until the Sultana finally made her move. He cannot be dead – Dear Lord, please don't let him be dead…
The eunuchs turned towards the harem, and Ella fell into step behind them, her mind racing.
I have to find him.
A juncture of halls, and she recognized the stairs and remembered hidden doors behind them. She slowed her pace, dropping behind them bit by bit.
Slower, slower until they are far enough ahead of me…
A few more feet widened between them, and she turned to run.
Faster now, to turn the corner before they can catch me… Please, please let me find the lock.
She heard their voices, harsh with surprise, and the fast thud of their feet as they ran down the hall while she frantically ran her fingers across the top of the door, searching for the hidden latch.
Suddenly a man's hand brushed her out of the way, opened the latch and pulled both of them inside the hidden compartment, closing the door seconds before the eunuch's footsteps raced past.
Ella held her breath as their steps faded down another hall, then looked up at Daroga's clean profile, just visible from the diffused light peeking in from a screen high above.
He tapped on her elbow, gesturing her to follow him.
They trailed through the tunnel, past the Sultana's court and into a quiet part of the palace.
"Is he still alive?" Ella asked, the words rushing forward past any thanks or greeting. The Daroga looked tire, careworn, and somehow disappointed.
"I should think so." Ella felt relief spill across her face, but the Daroga frowned inexplicably. "They don't intend to kill him – at least, not yet."
"Then what-"
"The Shah has ordered the guards to blind him. The castle is close enough to complete, and the Shah is very, very pleased with its beauty."
"I don't understand." If the Shah was pleased…
"He does not want it to have a rival. Ever."
All this time I have feared the Sultana, and it is Erik's treasured palace that is the first to turn on us.
Ella thought of Erik's books and blueprints, the passion in his voice when he described the math and the beauty of the palace and its inspirations, the fast, impatient sureness of his movements. She thought of the black mask covering black, empty sockets, over a bone white jaw and pale lips.
Death would be kinder.
"Where is he?"
"I don't know – I have been looking for him. If the guards find him before he learns of this it is all over, but I have not seen him since yesterday. Do you know where he might be?"
Ella shook her head wordlessly, and the Daroga sighed again.
"They will be looking for you, as well, now. Stay here, and I will come back for you when I know more. Stay as quiet as you can, and in as empty a part of the palace as you can. And don't leave, if you don't know exactly how to get back in. Letting them catch you fumbling at a trapdoor will only kill us all."
With this hurried scolding, the Daroga quickly exited the tunnel. Ella barely breathed as she heard his footsteps fade in the hallway.
Where was Erik?
"The Daroga always did have perfect timing, but no faith in plans," a familiar voice suddenly whispered beside her in the dark stillness.
The relief was white hot, and rendered her speechless for a moment. Erik, his golden eyes sharp and focused behind the black mask, his voice matter-of-fact, his whole body tensed and alert – alive, and very much aware of the threat.
"The Daroga brought me into the passages after I ran away from the eunuchs – the Sultana ordered me back to the harem."
"Good – this would be harder if you were in the harem." Erik held a finger to his lips, and she heard footsteps echo past them in the hall. She identified them as guards by their heavy footfalls – the search was very much active. When all was quiet again he whispered almost silently. "Follow me."
Like before, they threaded through the passages but this time ended in the cellars of the palace. Finding and lighting a small lamp, Erik gestured to a small passageway cut into stone beside a drainage duct. "We will go under the palace wall – walk carefully – it is wet. Put your hand on my shoulder and one on the wall, and follow me as closely as you can." She noticed that he was dressed in Persian robes.
The ground was uneven, she discovered, and difficult to see in the lamplight, and the wall was covered with a wet, cloying mixture of mildew and mold that clung disgustingly to her fingers. She had to duck to squeeze under the low ceiling – with his tall frame, Erik was nearly bent in two as he crouched along the ledge.
"This is the only way out that is not monitored," Erik whispered by way of encouragement after she slipped several times in the wet mildew. "But see up ahead, the little spot of dark blue in the black? That will be the outside drain. Be very quiet, the parameter will be patrolled."
Outside the drain, they stumbled into a sodden puddle of foul smelling mud, then scrambled up the banks of the ditch to a small cluster of emptied stalls and shacks. The city around them seemed to seethe with sounds and movement in the early twilight.
"What now?" Ella whispered nervously, pulling her veils tightly around her face and light hair.
"We will walk to the bluffs beyond the palace. Stay behind me, and keep your face and hands as covered as possible. We can't be seen."
Three times the Sultana's guards thundered by on horseback, and three times they hid, pressed inside an alley doorway, flattened behind a merchant's wares, and once praying with foreheads pressed to the ground on stolen mats as the prayer bells began to chime over the city, the newly unconscious vendor crumpled in a heap behind his cart.
It was in the dead of night when they finally passed the new palace, shimmering under the moonlight like an oasis. Erik paused for a moment, looking at it.
"It is very beautiful," Ella whispered.
"It was," he replied quietly.
The Daroga was waiting in a small wooded area past the palace, wearing the same careworn look as before laced with urgency and unease. He registered her presence with a look of surprised relief before turning to Erik.
"Here is a horse – it's the best I could do on short notice. The guard is fanning out in all directions. Your best chance will be through the woods on the northern side, keeping clear of the roads. I will do what I can."
"I will not forget this," Erik replied lowly.
The Daroga sighed as he looked at them both, then back towards the road. "Go with Allah," he replied. With a quick movement he swung up into his saddle, and urged his horse through the dark woods towards the road.
Ella watched him disappear in the dark, hearing the sound of his voice in the distance as he redirected an approaching search party away from the woods. The escape out of Persia seemed impossibly long as she surveyed the placid chestnut mount before them.
"Erik, how are we to get across the borders?" Ella asked nervously as he handed her up onto the horse's back. Without a great deal of money to bribe their way through the roads and borders, they could never hope to escape the guards. She held little hope that the Shah and Sultana would not send men scouring the countryside.
He grinned suddenly and unexpectedly, pulling out a large bundle of linen from his pocket and handing it to her. The weight was unexpectedly heavy and cold in her hands, and the contents shifted and spilled about her splayed fingers inside the fabric. She untied it in her lap. Hundreds of gems, pearls and gold pieces glowed in the moonlight, reflecting night sky in their cold glitter. She felt her eyes widen, and beside her Erik laughed.
"We will have no trouble buying our way out of Persia."