Please note this chapter may contain violence.

DAROGA: THE PERSIAN'S NARRATIVE

Part Three

Needless to say, I could not sleep that evening. Instead of dreaming my worries away in bed, I was pacing the floor of my apartment, wringing my hands behind my back and averting my eyes from the clock. Knowing the time would only heighten my stress.

I didn't know how I was going to contrive a plan to take both the magician and Aisha away from this place without risking their lives or my own. The prison guards were stationed at their posts every hour of every day, and, though they were rather stupid at times, they were smart enough to obey orders given to them. In this case, the order to keep the prisoner in his cell had been given to them by the princess.

Sabah had made it clear that she wanted the magician executed tomorrow afternoon, which gave me even less time to think. I would have preferred escaping under the cover of night, when our chance of being seen would have lessened, but seeing as it was extremely late in the evening already, I would either have to take them now or in the morning.

Rubbing my forehead with my palm, I moved to a small alcove in my wall beside the hearth and tugged on a thin cord inside, ringing the small bell one floor below my apartment. I needed to speak with my servant.

Within five minutes I heard a soft knock at my door and went to answer it. Darius was standing there in his robe, attempting to seem wide awake for me, but I could see by the heavy bags under his eyes that I had just woken him from a deep sleep.

"You called for me, daroga?" he whispered, adjusting his crooked nightcap.

"Yes, yes, come in," I said softly, motioning him into my room. I shut my door and locked it.

"Darius, I'm sorry for waking you at this hour, but I require your assistance tonight. I have been pacing my floor for hours and I'm afraid I cannot come to a conclusion."

"What is wrong?" Darius asked, his hands clutching the front of his robe. I heard him yawn.

I sighed and sat down heavily in my armchair, gesturing for Darius to seat himself on the floor before me. He was repeatedly smoothing his thin beard with one hand, his serious eyes focused on mine.

"I'm afraid I've condemned an innocent man to the gallows, my friend," I said darkly, another fresh wave of guilt washing over my heart. "He's already been lashed and had a session with Jafar down in the dungeons. He isn't in the best condition at the moment."

I nervously ran my hand through my loose hair, feeling Darius' eyes burning on my face. "This man—the palace magician—has a lover in the dungeons, one of the servant girls. She's being held in a cell on charges of being an accomplice. I spoke with her this morning, and she begged me to free the magician."

I groaned audibly through my hand over my face. "I gave her my word that I would free both of them. Oh, Darius, I'm such a damned fool. The magician's scheduled to be executed in the afternoon. I cannot expect to just walk down there and free that man without running into trouble. If I'm captured, I'll be hung alongside him. Allah, I don't know what to do."

I let my hand fall down onto the arm of my chair and gave my faithful servant a hopeless smile. "I really am stupid, aren't I, Darius?"

"Oh no, daroga, you are a brilliant man," Darius insisted. I had to chuckle at his praise.

"If I was so brilliant, I would not be in this situation right now," I said, standing up to soothe my restless legs. "I will need your help."

He nodded eagerly, standing up with me and bowing his head. "I will do whatever you wish," he promised, giving me a hopeful smile. My servant had always been very cheerful, always optimistic and predicting joy and happiness in the future. I enjoyed having him around me when I was upset or in one of my grief-fueled rages; he was gentle and understanding, always there at my side to help me. I would have gladly set my life in his hands at any point in time.

"What do you think I should do, then?" I asked, spreading my hands.

I saw him glance at the clock, and I couldn't keep my eyes from following. It was three in the morning.

"Would you be willing to act now, daroga?"

I sighed heavily. "Yes, but it will have to be quick. The sun will have risen by six-thirty and we may be seen."

Darius smiled, taking off his nightcap and crushing it in his hands. "Shall we leave for the dungeons, then?"

-oOo-

The prisoners were eerily silent this morning. I could only pick up an occasional cough or groan down in the endless chambers, whereas in the early evening, your ears were assaulted with screams and shouts from fighting inmates. I noticed that some of the prison guards were also sleeping, slumped up against the walls or lying in a heap on the floor.

"It is a simple plan, really, daroga. We'll go into the magician's chamber, and if we happen to encounter a prison guard at the door, we'll simply say we've been ordered by the princess to check on the status of the magician. After a moment, I will exit the chamber and inform the guard that the magician has died, and that you and I are preparing the body for burial. I will fetch supplies while you explain to the magician the arrangements we've made. When he's wrapped up, we shall remove his body and take it above ground, while you go and release the girl. You mentioned she is on the second level, yes, daroga?"

"That is correct," I said, trying to wrap my mind around this dangerous scheme. "There are fewer guards on the second level than there are on the third level, so she will not be difficult to release."

Darius grinned, rapping his temple with a finger. "The late night hours have not affected your brain at all, daroga!" he remarked, impressed.

My heart sank as we arrived at the magician's chamber; there was indeed a guard stationed outside the door. I cast Darius an uncertain glance, and he nodded just slightly.

"Guard, if you would please step aside," I said shortly, my voice raised to its authoritative tone. The burly man stared blankly at me.

"On whose orders have you come here?" he grunted.

"Upon the order of Princess Sabah," I stated, giving the man a cold glare. "She has requested that we check on the status of her prisoner."

The guard sighed, and I saw him roll his eyes. "Very well. Be quick."

I unlocked the door with my own ring of keys, pushing it open and smoothly locking it when Darius was safely inside. We both turned to look at the magician.

He was still hanging there by his wrists, with his broken leg jutting out at a bizarre angle and his head drooping against his chest. I could hear him breathing loudly, a comforting sound that assured me he was not really dead.

"Who's there?" He whispered hoarsely, perhaps dreading a midnight torture by Jafar.

"It's I, the daroga, and my servant," I replied as I stepped close to the man, motioning for Darius to hold his lantern high. The magician's blindfold was still wrapped around his eyes, but the blood had dried on his face. It seemed that no one had come into this chamber since early evening.

I took off the blindfold and dropped it on the floor, unable to keep myself from cringing when I saw his injured eyes. The swelling had gotten worse over the past few hours, now angry and purple.

"I'm going to lower you to the floor," I told him quietly, going over to the crank on the wall and praying to Allah it wouldn't squeak when I turned it. I unlocked the mechanism and slowly began to turn it in a counter-clockwise direction. There was a slight squeal whenever the handle reached the top of the wheel, but, thank Allah, it was not loud enough to be heard through the thick stone walls of the chamber.

The magician's body was slowly lowered to the ground, and I quickly motioned for Darius to help stretch him out on the floor. My servant hurried to adjust the man, ensuring that his fractured leg did not twist and fold beneath his body and trying not to touch his open wounds. I heard the magician give a strangled moan.

"You must be silent," I whispered when the magician was fully lowered, kneeling beside his head. He was trembling. "I am going to set you free."

At first, he didn't seem to understand, and tried to move, pulling a little restlessly on his chain. I grabbed his wrists and stopped him. "Magician—Erik—you must be quiet! We are going to tell the guard at your door that you have died, so you must act convincingly. Make not a sound."

I fumbled for my ring of keys, flipping through them until I found the prison key, one that opened doors and unlocked prisoner's restraints. I released the manacles from the man's wrists, noting the painful bleeding rings around them.

"I apologize for your pain," I told him, once again feeling guilty. If I hadn't been so stupid and acted so quickly, he wouldn't be in this chamber, and both our necks would be safe.

Darius removed his cloak and draped it over the magician's lower body, giving him some privacy. I saw his grimace as he glanced at the broken leg. "He will need a doctor, daroga."

"I know. We will find one to take care of them once they are on their way," I replied, placing my palm on the magician's bruised forehead. He was burning up with fever. There was no time to waste in this situation.

"Darius, go inform the guard that the prisoner has died, and fetch wrappings immediately," I said, straightening up a little. My servant nodded and left the chamber, while I prayed to Allah that the guard would believe him.

"Aisha," the magician whispered. I saw his eyes swivel beneath the bruised and swelling flesh. He looked very confused. "Where is she?"

"She's just up the stairs, on the second level," I said, wondering what her current physical and mental state was like. "She will be freed, too."

"Is she all right?"

"Yes, yes, as I said earlier, she is unhurt. You needn't worry about her."

Erik sighed, his head rolling to his left a little. "They have not...done anything to her?"

"No. She hasn't a scratch on her. She is far more worried for you than for herself."

The magician actually smiled a little, causing a scarlet drop of blood to trickle from his cut lip. "She is a good girl. She doesn't have to worry about me. I'm all right."

It was my turn to smile. This man, who had just been tortured for hours on end, was more concerned for the well-being of his beloved than for his own damaged body. His heart was far larger than mine could ever have been.

The door the chamber opened, and I tensed briefly, expecting the guard, but to my relief there was Darius, with a neatly folded pile of white fabric. I took it from him.

"Erik, we're going to wrap you in this sheet and take you out of the chamber. You mustn't make a sound at all, because you are supposed to be dead. Even if you feel pain, you must not cry out, or we shall all die. Do you understand?"

"Yes," was his soft reply.

I then took the sheet and began to unravel it, passing it beneath the magician's body and wrapping it lightly around his upper body; I did not want to bind the man in the sheet, after all. I covered his head carefully, wrapped the sheet twice around his face, and ripped off the remainder so I could cover his legs. I did not wrap the broken leg, but decided to leave it exposed, so I would not damage it any further.

"There we are...we're going to carry you out. Remember, not a sound," I told him quietly. I braced myself, slipped my arms under the magician's body and draped him over my shoulder. I heard him give a harsh gasp of pain, but thankfully, he did not cry out.

Darius opened the door for me, and I felt Erik go limp in an attempt to look more convincing as a corpse. The guard acknowledged me with a nod as I passed, not a trace of suspicion on his face. Thank you, Allah.

I carried the man up the steps and hurried as quickly and quietly as I could to my room, where we would prepare him to leave the palace. I laid him carefully on the bed, and ordered Darius to start dressing him and packing rations while I went back down into the dungeons to fetch Aisha. I heard the clock strike four in the morning when I left my apartment.

Trying to clear my mind and remain calm, I dove back down the staircase, heading for the second level now, and taking out my keys as I did so. When I reached the girl's cell, I peeked inside to see her sleeping near the wall. At least she was getting some rest before her early morning journey out of Mazanderan.

"Aisha," I whispered softly, approaching her small form. I knelt down beside her and laid my hand on her arm. "Aisha, you must wake. I'm releasing you."

I noticed that she felt unusually cold. The dungeons were indeed icy, but her flesh had almost dropped to the same temperature as the stone floor. I gently took hold of her shoulders and rolled her over onto her back.

"Oh, God!" I hissed.

The girl's face was a pale icy blue, stained with dark trickles of dry blood from her mouth and nose. Her eyes were wide and glassy—I could see my reflection in them—and I began to smell vomit.

My eyes swept to the floor. There was indeed a puddle of bloody sick on the floor beneath her head, and sitting nearby was a bowl of gruel and a pitcher of water. The spoon, filled with a half-eaten scoop of the stuff, was sitting near Aisha's hand, and the drinking cup was sitting on its side, spilling water everywhere over the floor.

I reached out a trembling hand and took the spoon, raising it to my nostrils and sniffing it. I smelled a tinge of something sour through the scent of the oats, something very familiar to me. It was poison.

"My God...oh, Allah," I gasped, hurling the spoon to the floor. I stood up immediately, dropping Aisha's head to the floor with a thud and backing away from her dead body. I had failed her. In her greatest time of need, I had failed horribly. Only that morning, she had been smiling at me, wiping her tears from her beautiful eyes, grasping my hand and delighting in my promise that I would free her and her love from the prison.

What had she been thinking as she lay dying here, choking on her own vomit, convulsing on the ground, staring in horror at the blood that dripped from her mouth and her nose? Had she cried out for her lover to save her? Had she screamed for me, begging me to run and help her?

I wasn't there...

My rage boiled over and I furiously kicked the bowl of tainted gruel, splattering the contents over the wall. Who had done this? Who had wanted her dead?

Sabah!

She had to have seen the lovers kissing affectionately at some point, and her jealousy had turned to a desire to kill. She didn't want to punish the magician alone for refusing her; she wanted the girl to know she hadn't forgotten about her, either.

"Damn it!" I rasped, forcing myself not to scream and attract attention. I yanked open the barred door, not bothering to close it, and ran out of that hell-hole, stumbling up the stairs like a drunk man. I ran into the halls, dropping to my knees in front of an enormous window and raising my fists to the full moon in the night sky. The tears flowed freely down my face.

"My God...why...!"