Autumn 1852

Tehran

Erik

The khanum was delighted with my invention when it was finally finished. No, not delighted – enthralled. Within the first two days, ten men had entered the mirrored hell. Not one of them survived. Their bodies would be carried out, purple and bloated, while the khanum watched everything. I was also there to see that my invention worked properly.

The khanum laughed – her laugh was horrible – and said, "Very good, my friend. I am impressed. It seems your inspiration has not failed you as I have feared. This is your best work…"

To his horror, the leading foreign physician was invited to sit in and watch the events that took place in the torture chamber. The khanum said it was an excellent learning tool; the physician was able to see the stress that excessive heat put on the body and how far a man would go before he hanged himself.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the physician's face get whiter and whiter, until he could hardly stand to look anymore. I had a grudging respect for the man; he had scrupulous morals and more integrity than I had seen in many people. When it was over, when the body was dragged out of the room, the physician took out his handkerchief and wiped his sweating forehead, exhaling long and low.

"Well?" boomed the khanum imperiously from the balustrade.

The physician blundered through some reply, thanking the khanum for the excellent educational opportunity and promising to jot down all that he had observed in his professional notes. He was dismissed, and I did not miss the look of relief that passed over his pale features.

I was dismissed as well, and I hurriedly returned to my apartments, feeling ill and feverish. I did not know what to do for several minutes, and I stood around before spying my cold, lonely hashish pipe. With shaking hands, I managed to light the pipe, and I inhaled deeply. I felt brief contentment, but it soon passed.

For several months I had not had the drug, and my system rejected it. Gagging, I threw the pipe against the wall, where it broke. I ripped off my mask and vomited, my mind racing with visions of the bodies, the blood, the heat and noises of the torture chamber. After heaving for breath, I collapsed on the floor, feeling as if my very world was falling apart.

But why should it be? I was doing my commission well; my benefactors were pleased. For now, I was safe in Persia. I would remain so for several more months. And when the palace was finished, I could disappear to another part of the world and build up another empire. After all, Machiavelli said that idle hands grew soft. I believed that wholeheartedly; it would not do for me to remain and sit back on fat little cushions, watching while things were done for me. The Roman Empire was brought down by their arrogance and laziness, and I knew well enough to learn from its mistake. It was soon time for me to leave and begin work anew.

The knowledge of my unease was nagging the back of my mind, and I blankly ignored it, choosing instead to lie unmasked on the cold floor, shivering occasionally. I fell into a fitful sleep, plagued by gory nightmares full of bloated faces and accusing fingers.

Another dream interrupted that one, almost as if a switch had been pressed. I was…somewhere, somewhere lovely. It was a warm afternoon in a wide clearing of tall, green grasses and wildflowers. The birds were chirping, and I stood there without my mask. From a distance, I could see a figure approach, but I couldn't seem to build up energy or motivation to find my mask and replace it. I simply watched the figure approach, and I soon discerned who it was.

Christine was dressed in a gown, one of pure white, and she looked more beautiful than I had ever seen her. She was smiling at me, looking at my bare face with nothing but joy and contentment. Slowly, she reached down and took my hand. For a few moments, we gazed at each other. She then tugged my hand, and we began to walk. Not a word was spoken. I tried to say something, but she merely looked at me and silenced me with her blue eyes.

But too quickly, the dream was dissolving, and my conscious self was waking. I clawed desperately at the dream, never wanting it to end, but Christine's face was fading. The sunshine was weakening, the birds were quieting, and all of the comfort and peace I had felt came crashing back down. Disappointedly, I groaned myself awake and opened my eyes, finding a cold morning had filtered in through my drawn curtains.

Stiff and sore from sleeping on the ground, I pushed myself awake and examined my surroundings and myself. I had been left undisturbed all night, and everything was still there from last night. My clothing was severely wrinkled, and I felt grimy.

Quickly, I bathed and changed my clothing, feeling some semblance of calm take me as I pulled on clean, pressed clothes. I located my mask and put it back on.

My dream came back to me, and I closed my eyes tightly, remembering Christine in that dress, looking so incredibly happy. It tortured me, and I was angry at my mind for creating those images that would do nothing but torment me for the years to come.

But I knew what I had to do…I couldn't avoid it anymore. It had been too long. I beat the familiar path to her apartments, half-battling with myself all the way there. I decided I would make up an excuse as to why I was going to call upon her. Like I didn't want to…I rehearsed the stiff speech in my head. I had to return to the palace site – yes, that was it – and I was coming to collect any letters she had written to her husband.

A brief fist of terror clutched at my heart. She would write to her husband, telling him of all the horrific things I was. She would tell him what I really was – a monster, not fit to breathe in her perfume. But I decided immediately I wouldn't let that happen. My pride would not allow Raoul de Chagny to know of my face. He would never know; I would destroy every single letter Christine sent for as long as I needed. He knew what I did, what I was – but I could not let him see the physical thing that proved his words to be true.

Finally, I reached her apartments and shifted uncomfortably outside the door, bringing my fist up to knock and then quickly jerking it away from the wood before I did. As I fought with myself, I picked up on faint sounds coming from inside the apartments. I stilled and listened closely.

Christine was crying. That didn't surprise me, and I was immediately angered. How could I think of coming back, like some devoted slave, to a married woman who loathed me? What had I expected her to do? Welcome me back with open arms, invite me inside, and serve me tea? How could I have been so stupid? I clenched my teeth and bowed my head.

But then another sound reached my ears. It was two softly-spoken words that destroyed me, and I had to flee from her apartments before I made a complete fool of myself.

"Poor Erik," she had cried. "Poor Erik."

What kind of woman was this? How could she cry for me when I was the one who should have been sobbing and saying, Poor Christine?

It wasn't so. Christine was sitting there, crying over me. I briefly wondered what aspect she could be crying over. Perhaps sorrow for my face…but that was unlikely. Or she was crying because I had such a terrible temper. I didn't know – I couldn't figure her out. No one could have existed like Christine. No one could have been so compassionate, so kind, so good and pure. It made me even more disgusted with myself.

I was a mix of emotion for several days. I found myself wandering back to Christine's apartments in the middle of the night, staring at her door for hours. But I couldn't let myself near her. It was a punishment to myself for the way I had treated her. Others had taken off my mask; I should have been expecting it, really. But I should have been kinder to Christine. She had been nothing but cordial to me. I should have remembered the hours of music we had shared, the stories I had told her, her laughs and smiles and sweet words.

But she had no right! another voice whispered. How dare she remove your mask. Now you can never be with her, no matter how much you wished it to be.

I wanted to cry at the thought.

It was the memory of Christine that pushed me through my next challenge. I was in my apartments – it was late, and I was busy with some architectural calculations at my desk. There was a knock on the door. I thought it was Christine for a moment, but Christine had a certain way of knocking. It was incredibly soft and polite; most people probably wouldn't have even heard her small fist on the door. But I heard – I always did.

I heaved myself from the table with a groan and went to answer the door, uncaring that I was in nothing but shirtsleeves. Nadir Khan was waiting for me, followed by two eunuchs. I paled underneath my mask to realize what this might mean, and I moved slightly to see around Nadir. She was there, just as I had predicted. After a heated argument in my mind, I allowed them to enter.

Nadir rushed through much of the same speech as before, but there was one variation.

"The shah wishes you to be comfortable here, and he has taken the extreme liberty of obtaining a piece of your homeland." He gestured to the girl.

She was thrown at my feet – a familiar picture, and the room was deadly silent except for her occasional sobs. Her long, blonde hair was splayed on the floor, and she curled in on herself, wracking her frame with her weeping.

"From France, you said?" I asked Nadir. He nodded, and I saw pity flash in his eyes. This girl was a test: blonde, blue-eyed, French. Just like Christine…Christine. I wanted to see her right now. I wanted this mess taken away from me. I didn't want to have to choose or be responsible anymore. I just wanted to be with Christine.

"Leave us," I said curtly. All the men looked shocked. Nadir caught my eye, and I looked at him coldly. "I said leave!" I barked. The eunuchs left quickly, but Khan remained for a moment longer to look at me once more. The emotions that were passing through his face would have made me guilt-ridden had I not already decided on this girl's fate.

We were left alone. She was still sobbing, a hysterical bundle at my feet. With a heavy sigh, I knelt next to her and took her wrists, pulling her hands away from her tearful blue eyes. Quickly, though, I released her. Her skin had been painted with some sort of silver paste, and it clung to my gloves. I noticed that her nails had been painted as well, and her hair had been done with adhesive to make the ringlets long and defined. The makeup around her eyes was smudged horribly, black marks trailing down her cheeks. At the moment, the last thing that I felt was desire.

"No, please," she whimpered. "Please, monsieur, I beg of you! I will do anything you ask, but please – "

"Hush," I snapped irritably. "Stop that crying."

She wailed louder, making no attempt muffle the sound, in absolute hysterics. It surprised me slightly; all women went through vigorous training before being presented to any man. The previous harem girl had been terrified out of her mind, but she would never have dared to openly deny me in such a manner.

I left her for a few minutes, trying to clear my head and calm myself down. When I returned, it was with hot tea that I offered to her. She stared at it wondrously, sniffling pitifully.

"It isn't poisoned, I assure you," I said. With shaking hands, she took it from me, her gaze wandering up to stare at my mask. Normally, I would have been angry, but now I was simply annoyed.

"Stop staring at me so," I snapped. "You weren't brought here to gawk at me or my mask."

She must have remembered exactly why she was brought, because she started crying again.

"Would you shut up?" I half-shouted, my brain beginning to pound. "I'm not going to hurt you!"

She choked on a pathetic sob and sipped her tea, looking at me and then quickly looking away.

"Listen to me," I said quietly. "I – I don't want you, I don't want you here." I was silent for a moment and then asked, "Why are you in Persia? You're too young to travel alone." She stared at my shoulder, apparently too afraid to speak. "Answer my question," I commanded.

"I live in Nancy," she whispered. "My family and I were holidaying at the sea, and – and – " here she made an obvious question to control her tears " – I left the inn to explore by myself, and men grabbed me, and took me, and I traveled for so many days…"

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my faux nose, my head beginning to reel.

"I will make sure that you return there," I finally said, sighing as I promised myself more responsibility.

She recommenced staring at me in wonder. "Th – thank you, monsieur," she said, swallowing more emotional sobs. "Thank you so much. I cannot express – "

"I don't want to listen," I clipped, a bit harsher than necessary. She was quiet immediately. "Get up off the floor." She obeyed once again, still clutching the cup of now-cold tea. I held out my hand, and she passed it back to me, making sure to avoid all physical contact.

"You're welcome to bathe and then go to the bedroom and sleep," I said, trying to retain some manners that Christine always maintained. But when the girl paled under her paint I realized the blunder I had made. Instead of embarrassing me, it angered me. "Do whatever you want," I snarled. "I will be back in a few hours. But stay here, and do not touch anything. Do you understand? Keep your coated fingers away from my things. I shall know if you disobeyed."

She nodded, and she had settled herself on the couch when I left. I made my way to Nadir's apartments; it would take an hour at most, but I was certain that the girl would not leave. It was still evening – admittedly late – and I pounded on the door. A servant opened it, and I pushed my way inside without being announced.

"Erik!" Khan said, surprised as I stormed in. "What are you – ?"

"Quiet," I interrupted. "I've no time for your unnecessary questions. You must answer me honestly; I am in need of a man with unflawed character and morals who is quite willing to leave Persia and never return."

"That's the last thing I expected you to say," Nadir said, obviously aghast. "Why do you need him, Erik? What is it that you…" Slow comprehension dawned on him, and he looked at me hopelessly. "No," he said simply. "No, you cannot do that."

"You are not to tell me what I can and cannot do!" I snapped. "I will do whatever I please."

"Yes, I know that," Nadir replied wearily. He sat down once again and offered me a seat. I took it grudgingly, perched and poised, watching him intently.

"Perhaps when the Chagnys leave for France, they could take her with them," he suggested.

"No," I said immediately. "I want her gone now."

"Erik, be reasonable," Khan pleaded. "You cannot make her simply disappear. You've accepted her in the khanum's eyes – she already knows that you sent us away. You are expected to keep the girl."

"Who would know?" I said. "There are few people who frequent my apartments."

"Don't say such foolish things," Khan said. "You know you will be discovered. And besides, she does not fully belong to you. She will be called back to the harem tomorrow morning for inspection."

"She has been given to me as a gift. Unless I'm much mistaken – and I am not – people do not give gifts with the intent of taking them back. She is mine to do with what I will. You said so yourself."

Nadir glared. "Your stubborn logic…"

"Are you going to help me or not?" I demanded.

He was silent for a moment, and then he sighed. "Yes, Erik," he said tiredly. He thought for a moment and then continued, "I do know of a man. He traveled with me when I was searching for you."

"Take me to him," I said immediately.

The man lived in a squalid little bungalow, and I pounded on the door ferociously for several moments. Nadir was by my side, mute and defeated. He had not said anything on our short journey to the house.

The door creaked open, and a slim man paled when his eyes caught my mask.

"Master!" he said, immediately making respectful gestures. I waved them away impatiently, and the man invited us inside. I noted the squalid surroundings but did not dwell on it long. If he accepted, this man would be very rich, indeed. We both waited while he prattled around, making us something to eat and drink. He gestured to two seats, and we took them.

"Sharzeh," Nadir finally said, and the man looked toward him. "I had noted during our quest to discover the magician that you often spoke of how you wished to travel farther – to the western countries of Europe." The man nodded warily and tried not to stare at me.

"I have a proposition for you," I said quickly. I was impatient with the foolish bantering. "A…girl has been placed under my service, one that I do not require or want. She needs an escort back to France."

"You do not have to accept," Nadir said hastily, glancing at me with some rebuke in his gaze. "We both know how difficult it is to simply leave your home country. Your refusal will not anger us."

Quite the contrary – it would anger me immensely. But I wasn't about to let my foolish temper cost me an answer to my problem. We waited for several minutes. The man simply stared at his hands, his brow furrowed, obviously thinking hard. Finally, he sighed and looked up at us.

He said softly. "If I am to go to France, I would never return to my homeland."

"That is to be expected," Khan replied, his voice just as soft.

"I would pay you handsomely, of course," I said. "You would not have to worry about travel expenses, nor would you have to worry about an income for the rest of your life – that is, if you spend it wisely."

Sharzeh nodded his understanding. There were a few minutes of tense, unbearable silence. I watched carefully while he stared at the ground, obviously thinking hard. Finally, he looked up and asked, "Where is the girl?"

A huge wave of relief coursed through me. The girl was off of my hands – out of my life, hopefully forever. There was nothing more to be done with her. Trying not to grin, I replied,

"At my apartments. The two of you must leave immediately. I shall go and fetch her."

Nadir stayed with the man to help him determine a suitable travel route for his way to France, and I hurried back to my apartments, anxious to be rid of this problem. I entered them to find that she had fallen asleep on the couch.

She screamed when I shook her awake. It irritated me.

"Get up," I said shortly. "You're leaving tonight."

Sleepily, she stood and followed me. I saw that she had washed her face and hands, though paint lingered on her neck and the exposed portions of her skin. I looked at her dress for a moment; it really wasn't travel-appropriate in the least. But that would have to be fixed at a later date. I certainly didn't have any clothes for her, and the only person I knew who did…well, I wouldn't ask her for anything.

The only thing I did give her was a small blanket that served well enough for a shawl. She took it gratefully and followed me out into the darkened Tehran streets.

"Monsieur," she said softly, "a woman came to see you."

I stopped and whirled on her. "What?" I said angrily.

She trembled and repeated, "A woman came to see you. She was French. I…I am sorry, sir. But I heard her shouting through the door, and I recognized my language. I had to answer it, monsieur. She asked where you were, and I told her you were out. She then wrote a note for you. I – I have it here."

She reached into the waistband of her dress and held out a folded piece of paper. I snatched it from her and, without opening it, ripped it in half and threw it on the ground. The girl watched me, silent and terrified. "Did she say anything else?" I demanded.

"No, monsieur," the girl said. "She was disappointed that you weren't there, but she left soon after."

I began walking again, she behind me. I felt my anger cool. Christine…coming to nose around my business once again, ever-curious.

"You will be travelling with a man named Sharzeh," I said to her, trying to distract myself. In the dim light, I saw her face fall. "You will be safe with him," I assured her. "He will protect you."

She nodded and, to my surprise, spoke. "When I was coming here, everyone traveling with me were men. I was so afraid – afraid they would do something to me. But I soon discovered that I was…being saved, I suppose." A blush stained her cheeks. "How much farther?"

"A few more minutes," I said. "Sharzeh doesn't know much French, and I doubt you are very familiar with Persian. It will be difficult for both of you, but you must remember that he is leaving his homeland and everything he knows to ensure that you return safely."

She murmured an understanding, and I led the way to the dimly-lit hut that, soon, Sharzeh would no longer call home. I knocked quietly, and Nadir opened the door.

Sharzeh was ready; I saw his small bags packed. Nadir said to me:

"We've decided that they will head south, down through the Mediterranean and into the southern part of France. It is not a highly-used route, and hopefully no one would think to follow them south."

"No one will be looking," I said. "This affair is the least of the shah's worries."

The girl was looking at Sharzeh. He caught her looking, and she blushed and looked away. Gently, Sharzeh approached her and held out his hand. Trembling, the girl put hers in his, and he patted it gently.

"I will take you home," he said quietly. She didn't understand, but she did know that what he said was kind and good. It brought a small smile to her face. I pulled out the money I had brought from my apartments, and I held it out to Sharzeh.

"Do not touch her," I suddenly said. He blanched and shook his head quickly. "If you lay a finger on her, I will find out. I will come to you – and you know what I will do."

"Erik," Khan said warningly. I glared at him and looked back to Sharzeh.

"Not a finger," I spat. Sharzeh bowed low and murmured,

"Yes, Master. I will treat her with the utmost respect, such as she deserves."

Finally, I looked toward the girl. "It will be a long journey, but you will be home soon. I wish you luck."

For a moment, she looked at me, and then she said, tears in her eyes, "I cannot thank you enough, monsieur. You have saved my life. I am forever in you debt."

People thanking me always left me feeling slightly uncomfortable, as I wasn't sure how to respond, and so I merely turned back to Sharzeh and said, "It is time for you to leave."

He nodded and motioned for the girl to follow him. With a last glance back at me, she stepped outside of the door, and Nadir and I were left alone.

"I know I discouraged this, Erik," Khan said, "but this was a very noble thing of you to do. That girl owes you her life."

"I don't want her life," I said simply.

"I know," he replied. "Perhaps that's precisely what makes this so unusual for you."

I found him smiling at me, and I gave a grim smile in return.

"Perhaps," I said softly.