The performances, though on a much smaller scale than their usual incarnations, were just as Nadir promised - an effervescent, gelastic spectacle. Every evening, the shah and his favored guests would gather in the grand hall waiting to see the best, most grand performances Europe had to offer. To begin, the manager would step forward and explain the vignette they were going to perform, shortened to accommodate their smaller group of performers, with Nadir translating right behind him.

And then the act would begin - and what incredible acts they were! The outlandish costumes, the soaring vocal gymnastics, the outrageous plot lines! The manager sat at the shah's side, with Nadir translating between them, and explained how far scaled down everything was, apologizing for the lack of grandeur. Even in this diminished form, what they showed was incredible - a man dressed as a bird desperate for love, ready to hang himself from his endless loneliness until a bird-woman appeared; a malevolent devil manipulating a woman who was draping herself in tempting jewels; a French aristocrat disguising her mute lover has her maid to avoid her jealous husband - every inch a spectacle!

In this last role, because there were only three main singers, they had the dancers fill in as needed. Three ballerinas appeared as a chorus of disapproving servants, mincing about in powdered wigs and drowning in ruffles and ribbons. As for the mute lover, Nadir's friend took the part and, even silent, was the act that everyone talked about afterwards.

While she always carried herself with a serious expression on her thin features and was very prim and proper in everyday life, once on stage, she completely transformed. Her humorous, outlandish expressions stole the show, a grand farce that sparkled with joy. Her costume - tight breeches - caused a riot among the members of the audience. They couldn't believe a woman would wear such revealing clothing and act so outrageously but whatever transgressions were quickly forgiven due to the visitor's foreign customs and the strength of the performance.

The dancing was equally incredible. There was a scene in a room full of dolls dressed in costumes from around the world; four little swans dancing in perfect unison, chained together by their hands; a nymph and her human lover reunited after an otherworldly struggle. The costumes here - short skirts that floated barely to the knee or stuck out from the legs, bared arms and necks - caused a scandal as well but the ladies of the court quickly fell in love with the looks, clamoring for such skirts for themselves. And - the most incredible, improbable thing - just as Nadir said, the women danced straight up on their toes, their feet encased in pink satin slippers with hard little boxes on the inside.

Here was where Nadir's friend truly shined. The way she leapt and landed on her little box shoes, it was a wonder she didn't break her feet! She was incredibly expressive - conveying passion, joy, sorrow - without uttering a word. The boy could see why Nadir spoke of her with a gleam in his eye.

Every evening was spent watching these amazing acts and every day was spent in practice. Unlike in Paris, the men were forbidden from watching the dancers warm up but the ladies of the haram sat in all the time. The dancers even shared their skirts and gave them a few lessons in ballet; for this, the ladies brought them silken veils and showed them a few of the dance moves they did at their haflas.

As badly as he wanted to sit in with the musicians, the boy was barred from attending any practice sessions. Nadir took pity on him and when he could, would act as lookout while the boy snuck through the secret passageways to press his ear to the wall. No, the musicians didn't want to speak to him, the singers wanted nothing to do with him, and the little dancers regarded him with wary animosity at a distance.

Without anything to do since his performances weren't needed, he spent most of his time locked up in his apartment. Nadir had offered to at least take him to play with the cats but knowing Nadir would probably rather spend this limited time with his new friends, the boy declined. Besides, he was feeling inspired these days, and a strange music began to flow through him, something he wondered if he should bother to write down…

Near the end of their time in Persia, just as Nadir had promised, he arranged to give the girls a private tour of the palace addition. As Nadir and the boy waited for their arrival in the courtyard, the boy restlessly sawed at his violin, working a musical phrase over and over again, trying to get it just right.

"New music?"

"...I think I am writing an opera…"

"An opera? I knew you would be inspired!" Nadir clapped his hands. "What's it going to be about?"

"A person...so irresistible...people throw themselves under his feet, they die for him...he is in Hell...I'm not sure but...it burns, I feel it burning inside of me…"

Nadir sighed. "Come on...don't be so serious right now. The ladies are coming, we want to show them all of the beauty that you've built. There's no room for this kind of sour mood."

"It's not really beautiful here. I don't like this place."

"It is, it is beautiful. You'll see, the ladies will come and enjoy themselves and they'll see that - "

"What will they see?" He put down his violin, fixing Nadir with a cold stare.

"Monsieur Khan! Monsieur Khan!" The ladies appeared on the balustrade above, waving and calling for Nadir, their eunuch guard following behind.

"Good afternoon, ladies!" Nadir called out. "There's a door to your left that will lead you to the stairs...Come down and join us."

The ladies followed his guidance and disappeared into the doorway to make their way downstairs. Nadir dismissed the guard, saying he would take it from here. The eunuch tossed him a wary glance but bowed and left. The girls flooded into the courtyard, squeezing their ruffled dresses through the narrow door.

"Monsieur Khan, our singers said the shah took them through and it was just marvelous!"

"Yes, they won't stop raving about how beautiful it is!"

"They say the last garden is the most incredible thing in the world!"

"I'm so pleased to hear it, ladies; I suppose that's why I wanted to save the best for last for you. And as a special treat, you have the architect here to guide you." Nadir gestured to the boy standing at the far end of the courtyard. The girls regarded him cautiously from afar.

"Is that true? Did he really build such a thing?"

"Yes - and he planned it quite a while ago. It was just finished last year. Come along - you're sure to love it."

The boy didn't move, kept staring at the ground beneath the girls' feet; they were innocently trampling the spot where his unintended bride had ended her life to escape him. He was falling deeper, deeper into the darkness of his memories when Nadir lightly touched his shoulder.

"I promise you...You'll see the beauty through their eyes…" He whispered to him in Persian, ushering him along. The boy sighed and led them to the first room, the siren's pool. The retractable edges were extended all the way allowing the ladies to walk with ease, even in their voluminous dresses. The pool itself was still, as bright as a mirror. The girls gasped and some even bent down to dip a single finger into the calm water to create little ripples.

"This room," the boy said, nestling his violin under his chin. "Has an acoustic element that changes the sounds that you hear."

He played a slow but short melody on the violin and the sound echoed, reverberated in that cool chamber producing an eerie effect. The little devil had learned how to sing underwater and this effect had been used to confuse the victims that were lured to the water to drown. But now, all of the fear was absent, there was only joy. The girls squealed and giggled, their gloved hands fluttering at their hearts.

"Monsieur Khan!" Nadir's friend tapped him on the shoulder. "It's so strange, look - I have gooseflesh!" She pulled back her sleeve to allow him a glimpse of her forearm.

Nadir could feel his cheeks lighting up bright red. "So you do! Marvelous effect, isn't it?"

"Indeed!" she nodded in agreement, a coy smile on her lips.

The girls took turns singing little songs in the room or shouting out funny phrases to hear how the sounds changed for a little bit before moving on.

A gasp rippled through the group as they entered the next chamber - the hall of mirrors.

"The maze is never the same. You see, these mirrors are on pivots and just like changing scenes on a stage, there are levers to manipulate the configuration." The boy said, walking slowly, leading them through the maze. There were myriad reflections all around, distorting their visions, confusing them.

Nadir leaned forward and spoke in Persian, asking, "You didn't make it too hard, did you?"

The boy whispered back, "No, not at all. And the chamber is still covered."

At the center of the maze, there was a pit that lead to the ingenious chamber that drove many men to the brink of insanity. Once inside, the image of an iron tree was reflected over and over within the small chamber and the boy would make sounds and suggestions with his hypnotizing voice to worm his way inside their minds, all the while heating the chamber. A rope around the largest limb was the only respite from this madness. Only a few of the strongest lasted more than a day. This was said to be the princess' favorite form of torture and she would sit watching for hours and hours.

It hadn't been put to use since she was gone (even the poor architect had been forced to just run the maze with the chamber closed up) Instead, it was capped off with a lid that was covered in beautiful mosaic tiles and it was here that the girls stood, whirling in circles trying to figure out which way to go next.

Pointing to the balconies that lined the hall high above them, the redhead said, "If only one of us was up there, they could guide us…"

"But that's cheating," the boy said. The girls turned on him, huffing indignantly. He attempted to recover by adding, "I'm sure you can figure it out if you just give it a try…"

He began to fiddle another little tune, waiting for the ladies to make their choice of re-entrance to the maze. When the blonde one approached one entrance, his music turned morose, regretful. She backed away. One of the brunettes made their way to the entrance at the far end the his music grew more upbeat. Now smiling again, the ladies continued their journey, the boy's music guiding them to the final chamber.

The girls couldn't stop themselves from breaking out into a full run in the butterfly garden. Even Nadir's friend, usually so serious and reserved, joyfully joined them as hundreds of multi-colored butterflies alighted all over their arms, shoulders, heads, faces.

The boy faltered for a moment, watching as the dancers enjoyed themselves, frolicking on the sculptures that he had used to break men, playing with the butterflies intended to flock to corpses dripping in blood. Nadir nudged him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Inspired by their revelry, the boy took up his violin and began to play. The girls squealed in delight and began to make up dances, going round and round the statues, darting in and out of the bushes. When they grew tired of dancing, sitting on the cool grass in puffs of petticoats, the boy brought out a few of his magic tricks, delighting them once more.

After a while, Nadir's friend rose and came over to where Nadir was watching the group from afar, one shoulder pressed into a marble column.

"Monsieur Khan, it's so different to see you in your native dress!" she said, joining him by the column.

"Oh, is it?" He shrugged. "I supposed I don't really think of it…"
"You wear it well - just as you do your European-style suit."

Nadir blushed a bit and mumbled some words of thanks. "You know, the dancers caused a riot in those tutus - and you in those breeches! The court is both appalled by your mode of dress and dying to get their hands on those skirts."

"Is the shah pleased?"

"Very."

"Good. I can't believe he imported even more ladies to jump at his command when he has an army of wives."

Nadir struggled to stifle a laugh, making a rather awkward coughing noise. "Yes, I told you things were done differently here…"

"Very different." She nodded. "How many wives do you have, Monsieur Khan?"

Another half-strangled cough died in his throat as he tried to choke down a nervous giggle.

"Well? Should I guess?"

"Mademoiselle, please!"

"Is it five?"

"No."

"Ten?"

"No!"

"Twenty? Monsieur Khan, how scandalous!" She laughed into her fingertips flirtatiously.

"None...I'm...not married…" Nadir blushed and looked down at his shoes. "I'm...I'm quite busy these days, haven't had the time, I suppose…"

"Busy?"

She looked over to where the boy was entertaining the group. He had a pair of golden rings that locked together and pulled apart, rolled along the backs of his hands as if acting on his command; they disappeared and reappeared, they stacked on top of each other, balanced perfectly. The girls had lost their fear of him and crept closer to get a better look at his little tricks. Being from the theater world, they had seen acts like this before, but it was simply spellbinding the way he performed them, as if his very hands were magic themselves.

She turned back to Nadir. "I imagine he does keep you very busy…"

"Yes, but it's not all bad. As you can see, he's very clever."

"Is it true what they say? What the ladies told us in the women's quarters...and my dance partner, Alexandre, he was there after we were sent away during the reception, he said that he saw - "

"There are many terrible things that my friend must do. He is a slave, just as he said, and he acts on the shah's wishes. I told you that things were different here...You know that there are some circumstances in life that prevent us from doing what we really wish to do…" Nadir's voice grew strained. After a pause, he fixed her with a serious gaze and said, "I know you will think this is strange but…I believe that he is a great person..."

"Monsieur Khan…You're very kind." Her fingertips came to rest lightly on his forearm as she stepped even closer. "Do you think you'll ever find your way back to Paris? I believe I've made myself useful again to Msr. Charvet with my arrangements for the smaller group and the current ballet mistress is retiring so I might have a position -"

During their intimate conversation, they failed to notice that the magic act had stopped and a scuffle had broken out at the other end of the garden. There were some cries, the sounds of a tussle, and then a great yelp as if an animal had been wounded. The boy sprinted across the garden, wig askew, grey hairs flying at the edges, and hid behind Nadir.

"My god…" Nadir clasped the boy by the shoulders to steady him; he was shaking violently, either with fear or with suppressed murderous intent, he wasn't sure. "What happened?"

"Make them stop...make them stop!" He moaned through chattering teeth.

The girls skipped across the garden, calling out to him.
"Come back - we just wanted a peek!"

"We only wanted to take a look - is that so wrong?"

"We were only teasing! Don't be shy!"

"Mademoiselles!" Nadir turned on the dancers, speaking with the sternest tone he could muster while still being polite. "It isn't like Paris; you can't go teasing him, he's not used to that…"

A fire burned in his friends' black eyes and, straightening to her full height, she took a stronger tone with the girls. "Ladies! I am absolutely ashamed that you would behave like a pack of little animals! How dare you? We are guests here and we should always act respectfully."

"Isn't he just a slave?" the blonde pouted. Nadir's friend silenced her with a cutting glance. Nadir patted the boy's shoulders, trying to reassure him, but he was hunching over, folding in on himself, and still shaking.

"Alright, mademoiselles; our fun is at an end. We should go back."

They walked through the dark corridor connecting the butterfly garden to the maze of mirrors. The boy led the way, still shaking so bad his chains rattled, the sound echoing off the high ceilings.

As they entered the maze, Nadir silently cursed that he hadn't asked the boy to straighten the mirrors so that they could walk straight through but the winding pathways seemed to have a calming effect on him. His shoulders seemed to relax and he had straightened up a little more. Nadir and his friend followed behind with the girls bringing up the rear. Although they had been quiet since the outburst in the garden, they now started to whisper amongst themselves. Growing bolder, they grew louder, and the redhead could be clearly heard when she said, "That thing must be so upset - having to see his own awful reflection over and over again! I can hardly believe he built a place like this…"

Nadir's friend whipped around to silence them once more but it was too late; the damage had been done.

The boy stopped in his tracks. "'That thing?'" he said. "'That thing!'" His voice, usually a thing of beauty, turned to a terrifying roar. He pivoted on his heel, staring straight through his minder and the prima ballerina, his eyes fixed on the girls and burning like two coals in his pale face. The girls gulped almost in unison, backing up in a crush of petticoats and ruffles and ribbons.

Nadir's heart began beating hard and fast within his chest. He leaned forward, reaching out for the boy, trying to still his trembling shoulders.

"That thing!" The boy cried, stepping back. "You want to see 'that thing' do you? I play music for you, I do magic tricks for you, I am a perfect gentleman, I build temples to beauty and art and it's never, ever enough, is it? You want to see!" He threw the chains from his hands, shattering the tiles at his feet.

"Please.." Nadir said, the blood rushing in his ears, sweat trickling from his temples. "Please don't…"

His petition was useless; the boy was already melting into the mirrors, disappearing into his labyrinth. Nadir lunged forward to see if he could still catch him; the moment he did, the mirrors began to creak and groan, twirling on their pivots.

"Monsieur Khan!"

He looked back and saw the moment the dancers disappeared behind a turning panel.

"Monsieur Khan!" He heard his friend shouting, heard her beating on the mirror.

"Monsieur Khan! Monsieur Khan!" A perfect imitation of her voice rang out from all angles. And then a low, sinister chuckle. "You want to see? Then I'll show you…"