A/N: I'm really sorry for the delay. I have been (and still am, unfortunately) ill so it was a bit of a struggle getting this one out but here we are. Thanks for your reviews and thanks to sherilyn smith for following! Cheer me up and let me know your thoughts? :)
Chapter 19: Istanbul
1855
The architect's warning rang through his head often, caught him off-guard especially in the moments when his mind was focusing on nothing in particular. The unique voice slithered its way into his dreams and had him gasping for air in the middle of the night, covered in cold sweat. It successfully stopped him from pursuing the man for the first few weeks and he tried silencing his guilt by investing his energy in gaining the Sultan's trust.
But one day even that wasn't enough. Reza was on his mind constantly and he couldn't shake the dreadful feeling that he was missing out on some precious time with his son. So that very night, he pushed himself off of the comfortable divan, collected whatever belongings he needed and started towards the Dolmabahçe Palace without rousing any of his men. From his time at court, he had learned that the architect would slave away at the palace until the small hours of the morning and so he was convinced that he would be able to locate him there now also.
Istanbul was once again treated to a mild night, the sky an ink-black canvas onto which the twinkling stars were projected magnificently. The main streets of the city were still bustling with life. Jugglers and entertainers enchanting intoxicated revellers, stealing from the unsuspecting enough to be taken advantage of. Delicious smells wafted out of tiny street kitchens, meats and vegetables audibly sizzling away.
The hush that the building site brought could not have provided a greater contrast. The guards at the main gate had thankfully become familiar enough with him by now to wave him through without questioning his presence at such a late hour. Perhaps they were somewhat curious; after all, they were only human but their experience with such an eccentric man seemed to have jaded them enough to shrug their shoulders at another man engaging in similarly strange behaviour.
Despite the tension that resided in Nadir's body, he couldn't help but marvel at the progress the architect had made. He had heard reports of the construction, the praises of wonder and amazement that a single man had achieved more in two years than the Sultan and his men in four. He could now also witness it for himself. What incredible gift the architect possessed!
Slowly, he meandered through the courtyards the man had carved out, distracted momentarily by the splendour around him. He could fully understand now why the Shah was so determined to get this man to Persia and yet his first encounter had told him enough to know that the architect would dangerously ruffle feathers with his arrogance and determination not to bow down to any leader. The Sultan might be impatient with him at times but still tolerant enough to keep him around, the Shah, on the other hand, would not hesitate to dispose of him quickly.
"Did I not advise you to be careful, Daroga?" the silky voice whispered and drew him swiftly and harshly out of his reverie. "A construction site is not an appropriate place for mindless wanderings. Why, a piece of stone could come loose and crush you."
The warning made him shiver, but determinedly he straightened his back and defiantly tilted up his chin. He'd had quite enough of the architect's showy ventriloquism used only as a cheap trick to induce fear.
"Your consideration is very kind," he remarked politely, "but I can assure you I will be careful. As a matter of fact, I was merely enjoying your craftsmanship. I must say, I couldn't spot a single weak point."
"How delightful," came the dry response and Nadir just had enough time to hear the soft landing of shoes on stone to turn around before he found himself staring into the cold eyes behind the mask.
"Your work at the palace is nearly done. If you leave the rest to the Sultan's other architects and come with me to Persia, I am certain the Shah will find a way to repay you that will prove interesting to you."
He saw no point in beating about the bush and to his surprise, the architect seemed delighted by the insolence he had shown.
"Do you truly think so highly of your Shah?" he questioned. "Or is that merely a script you're following? We both know the man has a certain reputation but I cannot recall it being for his kindness and thoughtfulness where gifts are concerned."
Nadir felt the heat of shame rise to his face, alongside frustration because he didn't dare protest or agree.
"Why is it you have to be so intolerably stubborn?" he snapped at last, though the danger in the other man's eyes quickly cooled his temper.
"You know, Daroga, a man can only live so long on wealth and power alone. But the Sultan offers me far more than that…"
Nadir was puzzled by the quick disappearance of danger in his eyes, as well as the contemplative tone with which he uttered his statement. He tried wrecking his brain to think up what other gifts the Sultan could possibly be bestowing upon the architect but nothing came to mind that the Shah did not possess also.
The warm breeze accentuated the feeling of melancholy that was growing in his chest and when he reluctantly turned to depart once more, he suddenly felt the architect's hand on his arm. He was using his metal one and the grip was so firm that Nadir had no choice but to remain glued to the spot. Quizzically and with an understandable amount of fear, he turned as much as he could to look at the other but found that his attention wasn't even resting on him. Instead his posture was rigid and poised and from the way he was tilting his head occasionally, Nadir deducted that he was listening out for something.
"I don't suppose your Shah has sent others for this occasion."
It should have been a question but it sounded like a statement and moments later Nadir finally perceived the sounds that the architect must have picked up on much earlier. Footsteps growing faster and faster, a soft whisper of something, followed by an almost inaudible metallic clang. He couldn't quite tell what all of this meant but knew that he was in trouble because the architect clearly interpreted it as a threat.
Moments later, the men were upon them, moving silently and swiftly but with a precision that rendered him motionless. The architect had released his arm the minute the attack had commenced and was disposing of most of the men with a quick expertise that confirmed all the suspicions Nadir had developed at the bazaar. Not once did he see a glimmer of remorse in the amber eyes, nor a split second's hesitation. But instead there was a greed and a satisfaction that frightened him almost more than the attack itself. He shivered to think what else he could be turned into in the Shah's ruthless hands.
"You are the chief of police, are you not?" he suddenly heard an angry hiss in his right ear. "Defend yourself."
He trembled at the angry command, the sound that had so harshly broken through the silence of the night. For the assassins, whoever they were, had been largely quiet and focused on the task at hand. Only now did the last remaining one break this cone of silence by uttering a few, soft words in Turkish. Nadir produced the gun from his belt and trained it on the man, hearing nothing more than "Allah"" leave his lips before the architect used his lasso to strangle him like he had done with the rest of the assassins. A last prayer. Nadir swallowed.
Then something came tumbling down from above, it hit the balustrade of a nearby balcony, then opened up, spewing its contents all over the architect. Within seconds he was covered by a whole horde of grasshoppers and other insects that wormed their way beneath his clothes and, seemingly, also underneath the mask. Nadir could only assume what kind of threat these insects posed for the perfectly composed man before him was screaming and writhing in agony.
Nadir took hasty strides towards him, willing to do something, anything to relieve him of this pain. After all the horrible threats he had uttered, he still had chosen to protect him when the assassins had attacked. He owed him as much as to help him now too.
"Stop, don't touch me, you fool," the man hissed through gritted teeth, "unless you wish to suffer the same fate."
"Allow me to help you!" he demanded desperately, taking another step closer. "Please, let me escort you back to court."
"Parasites are inhabiting my body as we speak," he panted breathlessly, "I'm certain the Sultan would not like a carrier of disease in his palace."
"To hell with the Sultan," Nadir muttered and finally wrapped his arm around the other man's body.
He could feel the tension still, the rapid crawling of dozens of little legs but he did not allow his resolve to crumble. Slowly but steadily he guided the man forward, led him back through the beautiful gardens that seemed to have become one with the night and towards the main gates.
"Your dedication to the Shah is commendable," the man remarked dryly as they passed the dead bodies of the guards and turned in the direction of the old city.
"Do be quiet and preserve your strength," Nadir muttered angrily, "not everything I do is to satisfy the wishes of the Shah."
In response he only received a quiet chuckle. Irritated by the hostility shown to him, Nadir nonetheless managed to somehow rein in his temper and focused on flagging down the nearest carriage. To his satisfaction it happened to be a koçu, a vehicle with heavy curtains designed to carry women through the city, and although the driver stared at them questioningly he lifted the architect's frail body inside. Anonymity was more than welcome now.
As the carriage slowly rolled into motion, the architect automatically shrank away into a corner. Nadir had long ago suspected that the architect did not like contact with others much. Not wishing to encroach on his space, he remained in his own corner and merely studied the man's garments. The fine layer of stone dust had almost completely rubbed off and the larger insects had also disappeared. Still, he did not doubt that the smaller, most dangerous ones had remained somewhere beneath the surface.
The carriage bustled along slowly and with every minute that passed, Nadir could see the man before him slipping away. His posture, so rigid and full of tension, eased until he lay almost folded up in the corner of the compartment. The hands in his lap were starting to slide towards his legs, drooping limply over the edge and his breathing, too, seemed to have grown shallower.
"We are almost there," Nadir found himself whispering.
Useless platitudes, of course, since he had no idea how to help the man at the palace. Still, it felt safer there. At last, the carriage came to a stop and Nadir instantly clambered out and paid the driver, before pulling the architect's body out also. The man automatically slumped against him, his feet dragging uncoordinatedly over the ground.
Together, they made it inside the building and to his chambers which were even more richly decorated than his own. He barely had time to admire the jewels on display, the finely crafted instruments before the man's knees finally buckled beneath him and he was forced to catch him.
"Come on now, focus," he grunted.
The sheer effort of dragging him to the nearby divan proved almost too much.
"Save your strength, Daroga," the man murmured quietly, "I can feel the disease spread through my body. The fever already resides in my bones."
"Then I shall get you a cold compress. Now be quiet and undress."
Before the man could argue further, Nadir turned his back to him and strode through the chamber to locate the bath as well as a chest with his personal belongings. He extracted a handful of clothes of the finest material which he swiftly deposited by his side and then picked up a cloth which he dipped into water before returning yet again.
To his chagrin, however, the stubborn man hadn't followed any of his instructions. Ready to order him a second time, he noticed upon stepping closer that the architect seemed to have lost consciousness and quickly, his anger subsided. Not wishing to undress him without his consent, Nadir decided to start by stripping off his mask instead. He couldn't have guessed that this action would award him with an even more intimate glimpse.
The face he uncovered was astounding, horrifyingly so. Gasping softly, he pressed the damp cloth onto a forehead that seemed to hold more bone than flesh while his eyes flickered over the rest of the visage, struggling to take it all in. One half appeared to be beautifully crafted of fine metal while the other half appeared to have decayed already. What drew his attention most, however, was the nose with its exquisite silver bridge and golden nostril wings containing subtle but magnificent details.
Water from the cloth slowly dripped down the ordinary brow, then disappeared in a hollowed out cheek. The architect stirred but did not awake. Swallowing against the fear that was building up inside him, Nadir lifted the cloth and felt the forehead underneath. It was hot, too hot, he had been right in saying that the fever had already started to inhabit his body. Perhaps it was best if he roused the Sultan, urged him to send one of his medics but as his eyes returned to rest on the exposed face yet again he wondered if the architect would truly want it. He had come to know him as an arrogant, proud man and because of that could not imagine he would be able to tolerate anything posing a threat to his dignity.
Perhaps, the lesser of two evils then, would be if only he saw him in this state. It was a great gamble, one he might have to pay with his own life but he needed to do something.
Whispering a soft apology, he pulled the man's body against his and began lifting up his garments. He had only succeeded in removing the outer layer when the body sprang to life and a hand wrapped itself around his neck. Angry words in a language he did not understand were flung at him as he struggled to remove the hand. The amber eyes before him were undoubtedly feverish, wild and raging but also unfocused.
"Erik," he pressed out the name he had heard whispered at court many times. "Erik, please."
He knew that it was likely futile, hadn't he just witnessed the man kill in cold blood, but still he hoped that his name would stir something inside him that would give him pause at least.
"I do not…want…to be touched…"
A mixture of Turkish and Farsi, a desperation that suggested a terrible reason. Then the fingers slipped away and he could breathe fully again.
"I won't touch you if you don't wish it," he managed hoarsely, "but please try to do it yourself. We must burn these clothes."
His hands were shaking as he lifted up the other garments he had brought for him.
"Your heart is too open, Daroga," the architect remarked and a tired smile graced his features, "one day it will bleed out."
"It will have been for the right cause then," Nadir answered stubbornly, then averted his eyes when the man began undressing himself further.
He had seen enough to know that the rest of his body was also marred, scars of varying sizes and intensities had seen to that.
"Do you know what kind of creatures were unleashed on you?" he asked over the soft rustle of fabric.
"A biblical plague, no doubt," the man chuckled wearily, before adding dryly, "I'm afraid I did not have time to inspect them individually."
Nadir rolled his eyes, accepted the garments placed into his hands and threw them out onto the balcony. He would see to them being burnt in a short while.
"I suspect the locusts were more for show than anything else. They are hardly carnivorous. As for the rest…perhaps some flies, some maggots and ticks. One of them the carrier of disease, at least."
Nadir nodded silently and studied the shadow of a man before him.
"Oh please, Daroga," the architect sighed, "stop giving me such a pitiful look. Clearly you've seen now that I was born dead from the beginning. Philosophically speaking, it is merely the closing of a great circle."
"I don't have the stomach for cowardly acts like these," Nadir muttered quietly, "I witness them daily in Persia and they repulse me."
Something like mild surprise and respect registered in the amber eyes.
"It is the way of society," the man answered, shrugging his shoulders, "now turn around and approach the wall, yes, that wall. I know it is unassuming, I made it so on purpose. Touch the tile in the centre."
Nadir frowned, staring at the diamond of white tiles in front of him, it was impossible to say which one he was referring to.
"Come, come now, man, use your eyes."
The man's impatience irked him but also brought a nervous tension back to his body and so it was with great relief that he finally located and pressed the correct tile. The pressure seemed to trigger a kind of mechanism that revealed a small compartment to him which contained a number of bottles, flask and vials.
"Take the one with the clear solution and drink it," the architect instructed next and Nadir followed them though only as far as to remove the vial.
"Go ahead," the man drawled, "had I wished to poison you I would have done so sooner."
"What is it exactly?" Nadir questioned nonetheless, raising one curious eyebrow.
He couldn't allow his eyes to linger on the man in front of him for fear of betraying his discomfort at the strange face.
"A concoction I have made and that's all I'll say on the matter. Now drink it. Your stupidity will, no doubt, have got you infected also and I don't want to be responsible for starting a Turkish-Persian war because the chief of police is suddenly found dead."
Nadir nodded slowly and then gulped down half the solution which tasted tangy and bitter. The rest he extended to the architect.
"And I will not take the risk of becoming the murder suspect of the Sultan's chief architect."
Once again, his stubborn defiance seemed to cause the man great glee and with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes, albeit a weary one, he downed the other half of the solution.