CHAPTER 26

Christine anxiously paced the room, waiting for Meg's return. She had no clue as to where the girl had gone, but she hoped she would return soon. Eager to head out to the bath house, and to aid in Nadir's rescue, she pondered their places in what was to come. "I only pray we're not too late." She looked out of the window, hoping to spot her friend amongst the activity of the street below her.

"Where can Meg be?" She asked herself. No sooner had that thought come and gone, when the sound of a key was heard within the lock of the room door.

As Meg appeared from behind it, Christine let out a sigh of relief. "Meg! Thank God, you're back. I was beginning to…" She paused, seeing a fairly large man emerge from behind Meg as she stepped into the room. Taking a few steps back, she wondered what was going on.

"Christine, it's okay. Monsieur Marceau is here to help us," Meg assured her, seeing the instant worry in Christine's eyes.

"Monsieur Marceau?" Christine questioned, recognizing him as one of the men in Alhena's room the night she and Erik were out on the balcony of his sister's room.

"This is Guifford, the man I told you about," Meg explained, having been told of his surname on the way back to The Crystal Orchid.

"But he works for Faraj! How can he be trusted?" Christine backed away cautiously, unsure what to think of the man before her.

Guifford removed his bowler's hat, nervously gripping the rim within his pudgy fingers. "Madame," he began to address Christine, bowing his bald head in respect. "You have no need to fear me. I've promised my services to le Comtesse and my loyalties belong to her and those in her company."

"I…I don't understand," she shook her head. "Meg? Are you sure this is wise?"

Meg turned to Guifford. "I'll be but a moment. Please, wait right here," she asked him quietly.

With a nod, Guifford waited by the door as Meg left his side and approached Christine. "I know this is a lot for you to take in right now, but I promise I will explain it all on the way. What's most important is that you trust me."

"But, Meg…"

"Christine, please," she continued abruptly. "He knows that place better than we do."

"He was a part of your abduction," she whispered, leaning closer to Meg. "What if he turns us in to Faraj?"

Though Guifford had promised to help her, the thought of him going back on his word was something Meg had not bothered to think about seriously. She looked over to him a moment. The room was pleasantly cool, yet he seemed to be sweating profusely. He reached into his pocket, pulling a handkerchief free and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. As he attempted to return the cream colored cloth to his pocket, he missed, clumsily dropping it to the floor. He bent to retrieve it, smiling back at her as he got up, waving the hanky in turn, and then realized how ridiculous he looked. Embarrassed, his cheeks flushed as he quickly shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket and stood up. "It may be against my better judgment, but surely that man is much too innocent to go against his promise to me." Meg smiled back at him before turning to Christine once more.

"He won't betray us, mon ami. I've promised him a better life. If he cares as much for his family as he claims, he will go through with this without fail," she replied confidently.

Christine was still hesitant, but there was no time to argue the case at this point. Though she had reservations, she was determined to find out more about him on the way to the bath house and would decide for herself whether or not he could be trusted.

"Christine? Are you alright?" Meg asked concernedly.

"We've wasted too much time already," she answered Meg and then looked over to Guifford. "Monsieur Marceau? Do you have a horse?"

"Oui, Madame, I…"

"Good," she interrupted him. "Take le Comtesse with you and meet me out front. I'll secure a mount for myself from the proprietor downstairs."

"Very well," Guifford bowed.

"Now, go and be quick, Meg," she motioned her off with both hands. "I'll join you shortly."

Guifford and Meg left the room, leaving Christine alone in her thoughts for the moment. "I trust Meg's judgment, but I will keep a close eye on that man regardless."

As Raoul was led down the hall toward the master's study, Faraj prepared two glasses and a vintage bottle of Louis XIII de Rémy Martin, the highest quality of cognac from France. It had been a gift from Philippe, which he found only fitting to welcome his predecessor's long awaited replacement.

The two eunuchs which stood guard outside of the study, moved to open the golden arch doors as Raoul and his guide arrived.

"Comte Raoul de Chagny," the guide announced formally to his master.

"Ah, Comte! You're here early," Faraj beamed, welcoming him inside.

"Not by much," Raoul answered, explaining the other guests were not too far behind him as he rode up.

"Leave us, Nazim," Faraj ordered his guard.

With a curt bow, the guard left the two men to their business, closing the doors as he exited the room.

"I half expected you to be across the Sahara, on your way back to your beloved France," Faraj mentioned, as he reached out to shake Raoul's hand from behind his desk.

As expected, Raoul reiterated what Erik suggested he say should Faraj question him on this subject. "I do miss the comforts of home, but I must confess, the reason why I've stayed is to make sure you receive the funds I've given you. I'm meticulous when it comes to matters of business," he explained efficiently.

Faraj motioned to the seat across from him. "A man after my own heart!" He laughed as he wrapped his hands around the crystal bottle and pulled the fleur-de-lis stopper free. "Well then, care to join me in a drink before we move to the entertainment hall?"

"Don't mind if I do," Raoul replied, as he seated himself.

"I think you will appreciate this." Faraj partially filled a glass and handed it to Raoul before pouring his own. "Your brother was quite the connoisseur of fine drink."

With his right hand turned upward, Raoul cradled the underside bowl of the brandy snifter, swirling the contents briefly and inhaling the aromatic scent of the liquid before wetting his palette. "My brother was quite compulsive when it came to drinking," he admitted freely.

Faraj decided to broach the subject, already knowing Raoul would answer more conclusively. "And you are not?"

"I drink socially, when the occasion merits it, not to simply become foolhardy and lecherous. As I've said before, I am not my brother, and in respect to the delicacies of fine spirits at least, I hope to prove more refined than he was." Raoul raised his glass to the large man before him and took another sip from his glass.

Faraj extended Raoul's courtesy with his glass raised high, "Truly well spoken, Comte. You are certainly not as Philippe once was. In you, I see before me a man coming of age, above the likes of the slovenly men around us. This, my friend, is good for business and I shall enjoy your partnership for many years to come."

Raoul nodded his head in agreement, though he was secretly disgusted by the charade he had to maintain. "I'll be glad when this night is over!" He couldn't wait to return to France and get back to a normal way of life.

"So tell me," Faraj topped off his glass before taking another sip, "where's the little woman tonight?"

"Pardon?" Raoul asked, still lost within his thoughts of home.

"So soon do we forget those that wish to contain us?" Faraj chuckled. "One could hardly blame us nor be surprised for acting upon our most deep seeded desires. We are, after all, men," he pointed out.

Raoul furrowed his brow quizzically, his lack of understanding growing by the second. "I'm sorry? I'm not much for riddles."

"Oh, but you see, I am. Though, that's neither here nor there. I'll save that for later," Faraj grinned in contemplation.

"If you insist," Raoul shrugged and raised his glass to his lips once more.

"Allow me to apologize and I shall start over," Faraj suggested, seeing the puzzled look on Raoul's face.

Raoul emptied his glass and set it upon the desk. "Please, continue."

"What I am asking is," Faraj refilled Raoul's glass and handed it back to him, "where your lovely wife is tonight?"

"Oh, Meg!" The sudden spark of recognition hit him instantly, finally understanding what Faraj was going on and on about. "You must forgive me. I tend not think about her when I've come here to partake in things," he cleared his throat, "shall we say, unbecoming of a husband."

"Now we're getting somewhere!" Faraj boasted heartily. "I knew you had it in you to play the game."

"Indeed," Raoul smirked.

Faraj leaned back into his chair. "You know, I've asked Alhena to take care of us tonight. Perhaps you'd like to finish where you left off with her?"

Raoul forced a wicked grin. "What kind of man would I be to refuse? Though, I was hoping to see what other surprises your humble abode might have to offer me."

"There are plenty, but I suggest you take advantage of Alhena's talents before the night is through." Swishing his drink around in his glass, Faraj continued. "An opportunity such as this will not be available tomorrow."

"Oh?" Raoul was surprised by the declaration. "She's a bit beyond her years to be considered for the slave trade. Does this mean you plan on releasing her from your services?"

"In a matter of speaking," Faraj snickered, taking a longer drink from his glass.

"Are you selling her to another house? A patron?" Raoul pressed on, wondering what the man meant. "If so, you must let me make an offer for her."

"My dear, Comte," he leaned forward, observing him closely, "so many questions. It almost makes me think you care for her more than you allow me to believe."

Raoul laughed, waving his hand in dismissal. "I'm just curious as to why you would let such a beauty go now, given the lengths you've painstakingly gone through to keep her exclusively for your own purposes."

Faraj drained his glass and reached for the cognac bottle to pour yet another serving. "Comte, you are young, and have yet to find out that woman can be the bane of your very existence. You merely need to know that it's her time. Believe me when I say she will know of no other man's touch after tonight." He stood up and swallowed his drink in one swift motion and then brought the glass to rest upon his desk. "Now, this conversation bores me. Let us join the others in merriment, shall we? I promise this night will not soon be forgotten."

Raoul stood up, and moved to follow Faraj. They exited the study together, the master of the house walking purposefully down the hall ahead of him. As they neared the main entrance, they came across a large party of guests, filing into the bath house and gathering there, awaiting their patron.

"Gentlemen!" Faraj called out, grabbing the attention of those clustered in the hallway. "If you'll all be so kind as to follow me, we can enjoy some refreshments while we wait on the latecomers."

Several servants stood ready and attentive, holding platters of food and great flagons of wine as the assorted guests entered the entertainment hall. Faraj continued to walk past the crowd as they jostled around each other to find seating. He stopped before a wide marble staircase that led upstairs.

With an inward groan, Raoul craned his neck and watched as Sebastien and Jean entered the room, and made their way through the bustling people to sit directly behind him. Seeing the two men made his fingers itch to pull his pistol out, but he knew the night was young. Freeing Nadir had to be his first priority.

"Comte," Sebastien nodded as he sat, "I'd like to take a moment to welcome you to our little organization."

Raoul shifted in his seat, looking into the eyes of both men. "Well, I didn't have a whole lot of choice after all, but at least the money will be good."

"Absolutely," Sebastien smiled and leaned forward. "In hindsight I regret kidnapping your wife, mon ami. Had I known you would be so amenable to this whole affair, I might have made other arrangements instead."

Keeping the steel out of his voice, Raoul replied, "Think nothing of it. I understand that business is business."

"Excellent point, Comte," Sebastien smiled and relaxed in his chair.

Glancing back and forth between the two men, Raoul continued with a wry smirk, "And everything that happens tonight, will be nothing but pleasure."

Laughing, Sebastien reached out and patted Raoul's shoulder. Not noticing Jean matching the Comte's smirk with equal intensity.

"So are you excited about returning to France?" Sebastien asked.

"I am," Raoul nodded. "Once the funds are cleared, I shall take my leave."

Sebastien furrowed his brow. "Has Faraj not told you?"

"About?" Raoul looked to Sebastien for enlightenment.

"We leave tomorrow. The promissory note you gave Faraj checked out and the money should be transferred by the end of the week," Sebastien explained.

"So soon?" Raoul blurted out in a panic. Quickly, he corrected himself. "I'm thankful for the speedy process, though I was under the impression that it would take weeks to be withdrawn."

"Under normal circumstances, yes, but this," Sebastien stretched his arms out in a grand showing, "is far from what you would call normal."

"In any case, I'd like nothing more than to get out of this God awful wasteland," Raoul pointed out.

"And so we shall. Faraj has asked that we accompany you back home, of course once we reach France we will be parting ways, only to be in each other's company during business negotiations," Sebastien clarified.

Raoul nodded, the conversation rapidly becoming inaudible amongst the growing crowd.

Off to the side, Ranier entered quietly and took a seat in the back, watching the others with distrust and distaste. "So many fools," he thought. "Not a real man among them. And their wretched whores, with their inane babbling, just itching to be silenced."

As more and more people filed into the grand hall and took their seats, the servants sprang into motion, delivering glasses to the patrons and filling them up rapidly as they went.

Faraj waited for all to be served, watching proudly from his place at the foot of the stairs. Footsteps behind him made him look back. He whistled under his breath in appreciation as Alhena descended the staircase slowly. The look in her eyes challenged all in attendance as her sleek dress clung seductively to her body.

"Now there's a woman able make the most devout priest rethink his vows," Sebastien remarked in awe, unable to look away from her entrance.

Raoul had to concur. While he knew it was Erik's sister, it didn't stop him from admiring her sultry presence, standing out amongst all the others.

Nodding her head at Faraj, she passed him and immediately moved to help the other servants filling glasses. She glanced briefly at Raoul and gave him a quick smile before attending to her duties as inconspicuously as possible.

Faraj watched her longingly, almost regretting the necessity of things to come. As she served the patrons in the west side of the room, he strode over to the east, where Raoul and his two henchmen sat.

At an unseen signal, musicians at the top of the stairs filed out and began to play. The melody was upbeat and moments later several women filed past them and descended partially down the stairs. They moved hypnotically with the beat, spinning and twirling for all in attendance to watch in amazement. The drumbeats kept a crisp rhythm as the dancers moved with the music, captivating everyone watching.

While they danced, Faraj moved off to the side and got Sebastien's attention. "Any news of Guifford tonight?" He whispered in his ear.

Sebastien responded hesitantly, not wanting to anger him. "None, although he's aware of what's happening tonight. Ranier told him when he was in town this morning."

Faraj nodded. "Let me know when he arrives. I've got a few questions for him regarding his assignment."

"He should be here soon, I imagine," Sebastien replied with relief. For now, he had avoided his boss's wrath.

Faraj grunted a reply. He stood back up and watched the dancers, as they spun around on the stairs in time with the music.

Erik moved down the passageway with caution. Though Alhena had assured him of it's secrecy, he wished to remain alert for any possible occurrences. He held aloft a lit candle that he had grabbed from his saddlebag. It provided him very little illumination but he didn't need anything more. His feet traveled the dimly lit corridor, the darkness concealing his tracks as he moved forward. The deeper he went, the rhythmic sounds of musical instruments became more and more discernable. It told him he was close to his objective. He lowered the candle to the floor and reached out tentatively with his arms, feeling for the catch in the wall his sister had told him about. Confident he had found it, he lashed out with his foot, kicking the candle over and plunging the tunnel into complete darkness.

"It is time, my brother," he silently assured Nadir, hoping that his friend could feel his presence within the house. He grasped the lever in his black gloved hand, holding onto his sword with the other. A gust of air hit him as the panel of the wall slid off to the side, surprisingly making almost no noise at all. His eyes caught nothing but empty hallway before him. Swiftly taking note of the shadows that may aid him, he slipped inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he immediately caught a glimpse of a man to his left.

The guard stared at him for a moment too long before fumbling with both the blade and the horn at his belt, unsure of what to make of the anomalous masked man before him.

Erik used the pause to charge the guard, lashing out with his fist and connecting solidly with the man's jaw. As he stumbled backwards, Erik freed his sword and jammed it forward, feeling the steel slide deep within. His gloved hand shot up to cover the guard's mouth, stifling his death cry. As the man sank to the floor, Erik dragged him back into the tunnel, and laid him down.

Coming back inside the hall, he found the wall sconce that Alhena had mentioned and pulled it hard, causing the secret panel to slide shut once again. Looking around, he remembered the layout he'd been given. The kitchens were to his immediate left, the dungeon entrance was straight ahead. Knowing that it would be guarded, he crept in the shadows of the lamplight carefully, hoping the guards would be paying more attention to the music than to the possibility of intrusion.

Watching the dancers before him, Raoul wondered how Erik was doing down below. Alhena had not made a move to contact him and that had him worried. He was under the impression that she'd be coordinating things between Erik and himself and now there was another matter which made the need to speak with her even more necessary. Unable to control his restlessness any longer, he stood up and walked over to Faraj, noticing he was as enthralled by the dancers as the rest of the patrons.

"What is it, Comte?" Faraj asked, never taking his eyes off of the display before him.

"After a few glasses of your fine spirits, I believe I'm ready to take you up on your offer," Raoul spoke confidently.

Turning to look at him, Faraj asked, "Which offer was that?"

"I'd like to 'finish where I left off' with Alhena," he grinned, hoping the words would jog Faraj's memory.

"But of course, my friend. With the way she looks tonight, I cannot blame you for reconsidering my proposal. Let us hope that this time you have a much more memorable experience than the last," Faraj laughed, signaling to Alhena. "You have about twenty or thirty minutes before the show."

"I'm not like most of your patrons here, Monsieur Ajani. I wish to take my time with her," Raoul stated firmly, attempting to garner more than the allotted time given to him.

"I'm sure that's what you anticipate, but no man lasts that long with my Tigress," he remarked knowingly. "I'll send Ranier for you before we move to the viewing room."

Both men watched intently as Alhena approached.

"Master," she bowed before him and Raoul.

Faraj leered at her. "I want you to take good care of the Comte, my Tigress," he finished with a wink.

"As you wish, my master," Alhena replied stiffly and extended an arm to Raoul. "Come with me then."

"With pleasure," Raoul bowed.

As he followed her out of the hall, he grinned back at Faraj to further keep up with pretenses, and then rushed off in pursuit of his supposed conquest. Disappearing around the corner, he was unaware of the pair of cruel eyes that watched his every move.

Ranier remained in his seat, watching the two leave. In his mind, he entertained the dozens of ways to cruelly slaughter both of them. "Soon," he thought, his hand grasping the hilt of his long dagger, "Very soon!"

-XXX-

"Is everything in order?" Alhena whispered to Raoul, as she wrapped her arm within his.

"To my knowledge, yes, but…" he was silenced and she squeezed his arm firmly.

They passed two guards as they turned another corner, swiftly making their way in the direction of her room.

"We'll talk more once we're away from prying eyes," she spoke low, bowing her head as they passed another set of guards.

Finally reaching her quarters, they disappeared beyond the door. She moved to secure the lock, motioning Raoul toward the bed with her free hand.

"Don't get any funny ideas," she smirked, fastening a second lock at the foot of the door. "Granted, you're a lot better looking than the men that are usually up here, but I'm merely offering you a seat."

Nodding, he did as he was told, clasping his hands together as he rested his elbows upon his knees. "You need to get out of here."

"And I will, once this is all over," she answered readily, smoothing out the front of her skirt and walking over to him.

"I mean right now," he insisted strongly.

"What are you talking about?" She took a seat upon her hand-woven rug, bringing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

"Faraj intends to be rid of you tonight. He didn't exactly say how, but I'm certain that he meant it to be permanent," he stressed firmly.

"He's always threatening me in some form or another," she shrugged him off dismissively.

"This was different," he looked at her directly. "His eyes revealed a sincerity of purpose. I've seen this same look but twice in my life and believe me, both men were deathly serious about following through with their agendas."

"You can't possibly expect to know what Faraj's motives are from a supposed 'look' you may or may not have seen," she rolled her eyes.

"Would you be more prone to believing me if I told you that the two men of which I speak were that of my dead brother, Philippe and your very own brother?"

Alhena looked away momentarily, toward the open balcony, weighing his words more carefully.

"It's not just that, but this whole thing. It's unsettling. Everything is going according to plan, but did you stop to wonder that it all seems almost a bit too easy? Erik told me about what happened in the alleyway with those two men. I have a feeling Faraj knows what to expect and that we are in fact the ones playing right into his diabolical plans." It was not until he had spoken the thought aloud that he realized the truth within his own words.

The silence between them brought Alhena's attention away from the view of the night sky. Turning her head in Raoul's direction once more, she saw the cold sobering look displayed across his face. She leaned forward and placed a steady hand upon his right thigh. "Comte? Are you alright?"

"No," he answered gravely. "You're not safe here and neither is Erik. I'm not entirely sure of my position with Faraj, but I'm confident in buying enough time for you to take whatever it is you need and retrieve Monsieur Khan from the dungeon with Erik's help. You will be safe beside your brother, more so than you would be by remaining up here a moment longer."

An incessant knock interrupted them as they both looked to the locked door. Ranier yelled from behind it annoyingly. "Times up, Comte! Finish up with the whore and clean yourself up. Faraj requests your presence for the big finale!"

"I must go," Raoul stood from his seated position. "Please, do as I've said and make haste."

As he took a step past her, she grabbed his leg. "Wait." She stood up from the floor and faced him. Looking him over, she reached for his midsection and pulled his shirt free from his waist.

"What are you doing?" Raoul asked as he grabbed a hold of her wrists.

"You've just had me, Comte. As such, there's no way you would look as well-kept as you do now. So I'm making the necessary adjustments."

Raoul's grip loosened and she immediately brought her hands above his head, running her hands through his hair carelessly.

"Alright, that's quite enough!" He fussed, unaccustomed to his hair being handled in such a manner.

Looking him over a final time, she cocked her head to the side. "Something's…missing…"

"Wha-" He was silenced as her open hand met the side of his left cheek.

"What the he-" Yet again, her hand met his face, this time on his right.

"Better!" She smiled at her handiwork.

Raoul took a moment to catch his breath, sheer surprise stopping him short of strangling her where she stood.

"Hurry the hell up in there!" Ranier banged against the door once more.

He bid her well, despite her treatment of him mere seconds ago, and turned on his heel to leave her.

As soon as he was gone, she ran to her bedside table, retrieving her two daggers from the bottom drawer, and secured them against each thigh with torn strips of cloth. Falling to her knees, she reached under her bed and grabbed the knapsack she had prepared earlier. She tied a twenty foot cord around it and walked over to the balcony. Securing the other end to the side of the railing, she lowered the bag until it suspended halfway down. She would come back to it once she was outside with Nadir.

Confident that everything was in order, she exited her room and made her way toward the dungeon as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself. Spotting the guards at the entrance to the dungeon, she took a moment to calm her nerves before making her final approach.

Reaching the door, she bowed. "I've come to make sure the prisoner is prepared for my master."

Both guards nodded, allowing her access as they've done several times over the past few days. They closed the door behind her as she stepped in.

Descending the stairs, she cursed her brother, furious that he was nowhere to be found. She had hoped to run into him by now. She shook her head as she came to the bottom of the staircase. She acknowledged the second set of guards with a bow before continuing down the hall to Nadir's cell.

As she opened the cell door, Nadir stood within, greeting her with a simple smile.

"And what are you so happy about?" She asked, thinking the man should be more frantic given the impending circumstances.

"This nightmare will be over shortly. I will be free," he replied simply.

"While I appreciate the sentiment, let's work on both our freedoms, and not in the 'dead by morning sense,' okay?"

"If you insist," he sighed.

"I do. In fact, I've got something for you. Hopefully something you'll appreciate holding in your hands after so long without it." She gave him a wry smirk and lifted her skirts.

Erik also moved in time with the music, despite his confidence that his movements were silent. While the hallway was long, it was not especially well lit, the doors leading to various servants' quarters in this wing of the house requiring less light than those in other, more traveled sections.

Up ahead the hallway branched left and right. He knew the dungeon to be to the left, and the front door and other areas to the right. He found himself wondering how he would be able to distract the two on the left, without alerting the others. With his back to the wall, he came to the end of the hall and looked at an angle down toward the main doors. The guards were none too alert, and far enough away that the music should hide any noises he might make.

A plan forming in his head, he ducked inside the nearest of the servant rooms, grateful that it was empty. He quickly uncoiled his Punjab lasso from around his body and tied the end to the doorknob inside. Leaving the door open just a crack, he lifted one gloved hand to his mouth. "Step aside, fools!" He deftly threw his voice down the hall, hoping it would be just loud enough to catch the attention of the two around the immediate corner.

His skill hadn't left him, nor had his luck. As the two rushed past the door, he slipped behind them and whipped the rope at the neck of the first one. It settled neatly in place as the guard immediately came to the end of it's length, the noose drawing tight and knocking him backwards off his feet. Ignoring him, Erik leapt over the man's prone, struggling form and drew his sword. As the second guard spun around in confusion, all he could see was a wave of blackness in front of his eyes. It parted a moment later, but the vision before him was more terrifying than the darkness. He tried to scream as he saw the firelight dancing upon a demonic masked face lunging at him, but nothing would come out. A moment later he felt the cold flash of steel cutting across his throat, silencing him forever.

Erik spun back around, blood dripping from his blade. The first guard was on his knees, trying to lean backwards and get enough slack to remove the lasso and call for help.

"I don't think so, my friend." Erik strode forward and slashed once, hard across the man's chest. The man gurgled and fell to the ground, trying feebly to crawl away. Worried about the noise, Erik stood over his head and thrust down with his blade, pulling it free when the dying man finally lay still. He looked around the hallway, double checking that no one had observed the display. Satisfied that he was alone, he dragged the bodies inside the servants' quarters, stowing them in a linen closet, stacked on top of each other. He searched them for a moment before coming up with a key on a long leather thong. Its intricate design assured him it was a key to the basement.

Stepping into the hallway, Erik chuckled to himself. "I'm glad Faraj had the foresight to lay red carpet in this hallway, or I'd be here an hour cleaning up." As it was, the stains were barely noticeable in the poor light, but he blew out one of the closer lamps just to play it safe.

Faraj clapped his hands rapidly, a signal for the musicians and dancers to stop. "Enough!" His voice roared.

The music died out a moment later and the dancers bowed before retreating back up the stairs.

"One and all, I thank you for coming," he began, looking over his audience. "Feel free to bring your drinks with you, as I've got one more surprise for the night."

The crowded hall was filled with noise as people stood up and signaled the servants for various last minute refills. Once completed, they all moved towards Faraj as he stood off the side of the stairs. They watched as he reached out and pushed at the wall tiles in seemingly random order. With a collective gasp, they stared in astonishment as the base of the grand staircase lifted up, revealing another flight of stairs below it.

"Go on down, my friends, and take a seat. I promise you, the show will commence soon," Faraj announced, his hands gesturing for people to come forward.

As the crowd began to descend, they noted that the passageway was well lit. It wasn't long before the stairs ended and a tunnel loomed before them. Following it for a time, they came to an archway, leading into an area of long benches. From their seats, they could look down into a large open room, reminiscent of an ancient arena, but smaller in scale. The murmurs of wonder were loud as they all gazed upon the spectacle of this unknown room.

As the last person entered, Faraj closed the stairwell and left the hall, intending to go prepare his prisoner for this last trial. He strode with a purpose, eager to commence the events, although knowing the man in the basement would die as assuredly as the sun would arise in the morning.

He nodded at the guards at the front door as he passed, moving toward the dungeon. They both bowed in respect, but he was too lost in thought to notice. Frowning, he noted that the guards at the entrance to the dungeon were not there. "I shall have them both flogged for their lapse in judgment," he decided, pulling the door open and walking down the spiral staircase.

-XXX-

Erik peeked out of the room he occupied with the two dead guards and saw Faraj pass, hoping the missing guards wouldn't be more than a minor issue to the crime lord. He breathed a sigh of relief when the big man didn't stop, and gripped his sword hilt tightly as he disappeared from view completely.

Slipping out of the room nimbly, his gloved hand reached out and snuffed the nearest lamp, granting him a few more feet of shadows to hide in. He hoped it would be enough, as he darted out, slipping the key into the lock as swiftly as possible. Surprised at how quietly the door opened, he silently thanked whatever servant had the job of oiling hinges in the house.

He moved into the darkness of the stairwell, mindful to close the door, letting it latch slowly. He heard voices below and descended carefully, thankful that his dark clothes would offer no reflection from the torchlight below.

-XXX-

The two guards at the bottom of the stairs saluted Faraj as he arrived, but he motioned them to silence with a gesture. He moved towards the end of the hall and paused outside the room he knew the prisoner was held in. He was furious as he heard voices within. He signaled to the guards at the far end of the hall to come forward.

-XXX-

Erik moved down the stairs until he was low enough to make out the torches lighting the halls beyond the opening. With catlike grace he jumped over the railing, landing with a whisper of sound behind the back of the spiral staircase, not ten feet from the two guards ahead. He watched intently as Faraj and the guards stood outside a cell door listening to the hushed voices inside.

-XXX-

"What is this?" Nadir asked in bewilderment as Alhena pressed one of her daggers into his hands.

"A weapon obviously," she replied grabbing the other for herself from it's place of concealment.

"Ah, for a moment I had thought you..." he let the thought trail off, embarrassed at what he'd been hoping for.

"Change of plans, I'm afraid. I've not seen any sign of my brother tonight and I will not let you die in here." She carefully inspected his wounds one last time, smiling grimly as she concluded he would at least be able to follow her, if not necessarily be able to fight.

His brow furrowed, "But the guards…" he began.

"Are lazy and unmotivated," she finished for him. "Hopefully we can take them by surprise, just follow my lead. When we are free, we can both spit a curse upon your so called friend, my brother."

"Erik would never abandon me completely, my dear, and you even less," Nadir said confidently, moving to take her in his arms.

She allowed herself a few long moments in his tender embrace, before breaking it and grabbing his hand. "Come. Let us be gone before Faraj and the rest of his fools find we are missing." She pulled the cell door open, and her eyes grew wide immediately as Faraj and four guards stood before her in the passage. The giant man loomed large in the darkness, the torchlight shining along the length of his massive scimitar.

"Too late, my dear," he grinned and stepped forward, his guards rushing into the room behind him. His hand immediately shot out and grasped her wrist, shaking it as one would shake a doll, smiling in satisfaction as the dagger dropped to the floor with a loud clang.

Nadir stared at the four men before him, their weapons leveled at him. With a resigned shrug, he also let his dagger drop.

"Take him to 'The Master's Conundrum,' but do not harm him unless he resists," Faraj commanded, never taking his eyes off of the cowering beauty before him.

"What of her, my lord?" One of the men asked tentatively.

"I'll see to her punishment..." His eyes grew hard, the fires in them coming from more than just the flames along the walls. "...personally."

-XXX-

"No!" Erik cursed to himself, caught in a dilemma. From his position behind the guards, he could see Nadir being pulled into the hall at sword point, while a grinning Faraj held a tight grip about Alhena's arms.

Nadir gave a despairing look at Alhena, fearing more for her safety than his own. He hoped Erik would be able to save her. Or avenge them both if not. As he turned around, he caught a dim reflection from the near end of the hall, behind the spiral staircase leading up. Knowing instantly what it meant, he stared at it meaningfully, nodding once slowly. "Save her," Nadir pleaded with his eyes, before standing up straight and allowing himself to be led down the opposite direction.

Faraj pulled the struggling Alhena toward the stairwell. Erik ducked back into the shadows, pulling his black cloak about his face and standing stock still. "Fear not for his safety, my Tigress. You'll be joining him soon, one way or another." Faraj laughed evilly as he dragged her up the stairs, her tears of anger only spurring him on faster.

As the door above closed, confirming their exit, Erik fought the demons within him. "My sister or my brother?" It was a torture he'd never known, tearing at him inside. The image of his brave Persian friend lingered in his mind however, as did the plaintive look in his eyes. "Forgive me, Daroga…" He sped up the stairs in silence hoping he would be in time to save one of them at least.

Author's Note
I apologize with the delay, but I hope the update was worth the wait. I know, it's a cliffie, but just to warn you all now, most of the future updates will end much like this. As always, thanks for all the positive feedback. You are the ones that keep me inspired and motivated to continue with my little Phantom tale. -hugs everyone-

Disclaimer
I am not affiliated, nor do I own the right to: "Louis XIII de Rémy Martin Cognac." If you can afford roughly three grand (or more depending on the age quality) by today's standards, get yourself a bottle! -wink-