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Erik
Chapter 81
The Proposal
I waited for the crowd to clear out, watching as they left money for me in my opened brown leather bag. I'd donned my mask once more, disconnecting from anything and everything. There were days when I could pretend I was gaining this much from merely my magic. Other days, like today, I felt as though I were whoring my appearance out for the pleasure of others; and I didn't even have the excuse of captivity to prevent shame from creeping in.
The crowd dwindled to twenty. Then ten. Then five.
Then the last person remaining was the strange tan man in blue, his spectacles high up on his nose.
He cleared his throat when I made eye contact with him, and then reached into his pocket and brought out fifty rubles - fifty! - and placed them into my bag.
I raised my brows behind my mask. "I do not do encores."
"I wasn't expecting you to." His voice was serene, yet cold - a wide, flat glacier under blue sky without a speck of flora or fauna. "I was merely impressed."
"Thank you, Monsieur." My voice was emotionless. Impressed or not - I really didn't care. Still, I glanced down at the money. With just that much, I could afford not to work for a month or more.
"Monsieur?" he repeated. He switched, then, to my native tongue. "What part of France are you from?"
After so long, hearing my language was a relief to my ears. I blinked. "A small town - near Rouen," I responded in French. "And you? Are you Russian? French?"
"I am neither." He brought his hands behind his back. "That is what I have come to you to discuss." He gave a very slight curve of his lips. "Care to accompany me to a pub? An inn? I wish to speak with you."
"About?"
"A career prospect."
"I am not jobless." I was growing uneasy. He was skirting around answers, and I didn't quite care for it.
"No..." he said, looking at the bag of money. I swept it up and pulled the strings closed. "No, I suppose you are not. And you are content being a public spectacle? You don't find it - I don't know - humiliating?"
"It's rather hard to sell something when you won't show your customer what you're selling, don't you think? And right now, I have no idea what you are offering, so right now, I cannot give you a yes."
He nodded. "I do agree. Desire to join me for dinner, then? Some wine - or vodka, I suppose. Don't they drink vodka here?"
"They have wine as well, yes. Expensive - more expensive than vodka - but yes." I wouldn't take him to the tavern I currently resided in, but I knew of another. Though uneasy, I was curious. "This way."
We were seated in a corner of a small very upscale inn. I'd originally taken him to a less-established place, and he merely frowned, shook his head, and turned around. I'd stood dumbfounded for a second, but then followed him, reminding him that he wanted to speak at a pub. He said he did, and merely took me to a high-end place. The place he was currently staying, as it seemed.
I had no idea who this man was, but the moment the staff of the inn saw him, they bowed.
The waiters - not barmaids or barkeeps, but waiters - bowed as well before taking our order of red wines.
He perused the menu, humming to himself, as I merely watched him. He tapped his pointer finger on the table, reading through the selection. Ignoring me entirely.
"As much as I appreciate being wined and dined," I said, "I did assume we would be discussing...whatever it is you wanted to discuss." I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms.
"Yes." He didn't look at me. "I have a proposal for you."
"Take me out a few more times, and I will think about it."
He finally glanced at me. "You've a rather sharp wit, haven't you?"
"Can't survive on my good looks alone." I gave a sickeningly sweet grin, and he snorted.
"What do they call you?" he asked, and turned back to the menu.
"Lord of Shadows, King of Darkness, Master of the Underworld; take your pick."
He ignored that. For some reason, it bothered me. And my annoyance made me exhale and look away.
"Erik," I muttered. "My name is Erik."
"Just Erik?"
"Just Erik. I don't have any family." Though, if I were to take a name, I would take Perrault - Marie's last name. But I didn't tell him this. I gleaned some satisfaction from keeping information from him as well.
"Hm." He paused, and finally folded the menu and put it down. "All right. My name is Nadir Khan. Daroga of Persia."
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"No, I suppose not." He smiled. "I am the chief of police of Tehran. I take direct orders from the Shah - Persia's king, if you will. He heard tell of your magic and face and voice, and would like to extend an invitation for you to stay at the Golestan Palace for a year."
It took a solid few seconds to really take in his words. Though unexpected, it didn't excite me or unnerve me. I think nothing surprised me anymore, no matter the magnitude. "Under conditions, I presume."
"Oh, yes. Of course. Ah-" A waiter arrived with our wine. "Thank you, young man."
The waiter bowed and left us alone. He went to stand on the opposite wall with the other two service staff, waiting to be flagged down by a guest.
"What conditions?" I asked, leaving my wine along for now, watching as the Daroga drank his. "I assume I will need to perform."
"Yes. His mother grows bored and when the royal family heard of your abilities - a Russian diplomat told them, a long story-"
"It doesn't sound very long. A Russian diplomat told them. There. Story over."
He narrowed his eyes. "Careful with that tongue around the Shah, boy."
"How do you know I'm a boy and not a man?"
"How old are you then? Eighteen?"
Shit. "Yes."
"A boy, then." Amusement playing at his lips, he took a sip of wine.
I scowled. "And how do you know I am accepting, old man?"
"You will be given your own apartments - chambers within the palace. Yours, and no one else's. You will have access to all of the service staff of the palace - access to anything you want. Tell me, Erik, what is it that you want? The Shah will provide it for you - he's said so himself."
I looked at him for a while, then said the truth: "No one can give me what I want."
"And what is that?"
I looked away.
"What is the worst, really, that could happen?" he asked. "Should you accept and hate it, then you will be dismissed after a year with riches - you could buy a house, if you'd wish, and never work another day in your life, rather than staying at that drab little tavern and playing the role of show-puppet for all of Moscow."
I whipped my gaze to his. "How did you-"
"You can't think tonight is the first night I've had eyes on you, can you?"
I didn't say anything, but pursed my lips. I didn't like that. At all.
And yet-
His proposal was tempting. Extremely so.
And if it was a trap, then I had enough skills at this point to weasel my way out. Easily.
He turned to flag down a waiter. When the man arrived to the table, he ordered a chicken dish. I chose not to eat tonight. The waiter left us for the kitchen.
Finally, I said softly, "I have a cat."
He raised a brow. "A cat."
"Yes." I lifted my chin. "I go, she comes with me."
He processed my words for a moment or so, and then grinned. "Any other terms?"
"I want to be left alone the majority of the time."
"Of course. The Shah merely expects a performance here and there. Once a night, at most." He folded his fingers in front of him. "Anything else?"
I paused. "Comfort."
"The finest clothes, meals, and furnishings will be yours."
"Then those are my terms. I wish for my cat, privacy, and comfort. In return, I will perform magic and music, maskless, for the Shah's mother."
The Daroga nodded slow. He raised his glass. I did too.
He clinked it against mine.
