Having made the decision to be on Erik's side, Nadir found it surprisingly easy to stay there. A lifetime of loyalties melted away. And his life, once stripped of that elegant varnish, seemed very ugly indeed.

In place of duty, Nadir found a strange, almost mystic serenity. He watched with clinical interest as his subordinates and colleagues investigated Erik's disappearance. He offered no protest against this usurpation of his rightful responsibility.

When he stumbled upon the opportunity to facilitate the close of the case, he took it without hesitation. A tall, scrawny corpse, quite defaced and utterly waterlogged, soon washed up on the coast near the new palace. It wore Erik's rotting clothing and Salman agha declared the fugitive caught. Whether anyone was really convinced, Nadir didn't know. But no one glanced askance at him over the imposter corpse.

The Shah never asked him about Erik, and Nadir never offered.

He wondered, occasionally, when exactly he had turned into such a hypocrite.

It would have appeared to any outside observer that Nadir's life changed very little. A few even commented, in a roundabout way, on how fortunate he was to have escaped his association with The Monster unscathed.

Nadir knew better. He watched assignments pass by and responsibilities shift away from him. He was still the Daroga of Mazandaran, but it started to seem more like an unearned honorific than a titled office. The Shah seldom called him to the palace, and never to Tehran. What social life he had possessed faded, and in the absence of work his lack of friends was stark.

Weeks and months and years of fading into obscurity and then, quite suddenly, the Shah called again.

He dressed carefully, strapped on his neglected sword, and whimsically added the emerald pin from Mojgan. Faithful Darius played his squire and they rode out to the Roshaneh Darya Palace—Erik's palace. He wondered if it was a calculated move and then chastised himself for being dense. He would be a fool to think it was anything but deliberate.

"Nadir," the Shah greeted him. There was no warmth in his voice and it did not escape notice that he had not used any of Nadir's titles.

Nadir made obeisance. His voice was as cold as the Shah's, he noted.

"I heard the most interesting thing from my envoy in Turkey," he said. "Apparently, Abdulaziz had the most fascinating installation put in at the Eyup Palace."

"Constantinople?" Nadir asked. It had been quite a while since foreign affairs had come his way. "What has been done?"

"It appears that he has acquired the most astonishing piece of automata," the Shah continued, "it looks just like the Sultan himself, so lifelike that his own servants are deceived."

"I see," Nadir replied, though he did not. He could hardly believe that the Shah would be sending him off on another acquisition mission—not after Erik.

"It's said that the machines were constructed by a magician," the Shah said. His voice had become very mild. His hands shook with something that had to be fury. "A masked magician."

Ah. Of course. Of course.

"Of course, the Abdulaziz isn't a complete fool," he said, "he knew that such a man with such abilities shouldn't be allowed to roam the earth free. You can well imagine what happened next."

"Indeed, Your Majesty, I am not entirely sure," Nadir said.

"Well, the magician escaped, of course. He has run away and God in heaven alone knows where he is. But I thought," the Shah finally smiled, a razor blade of a gesture, "I thought that, hm, I know a man who can find masked magicians quite easily. I thought of you, Nadir Khan."

Nadir bowed. It made him dizzy. Erik. There was no way the genius inventor was not Erik. The world was simply not wide enough to contain another such man. Erik, Erik, Erik… Still stuck to me, Erik, aren't you? I knew I would never quite escape you. "I am at your service, my Liege."

"I had hoped you would say that," he said brightly.

Nadir was glad he had not said the first words that had come to mind: I am at your disposal.

"I would like you to go to Turkey," the Shah said, "and find this masked genius."

"And?"

"And bring him back to me, of course." The Shah spoke briefly on the logistics of the assignment, of what scant resources would be at Nadir's disposal, and what was currently known about the man in question.

Nadir accepted the assignment—what choice did he have?—and turned to leave.

"Nadir? One more thing."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"This is quite important to me, you understand." The Shah smiled at him. "I will accept nothing but success."

"I will do my best, Your Majesty."

"That is not enough, Nadir, it is not enough. Do not return without the man."

It took a moment for the words to register for in Nadir's mind, but when they did, it was knife in his heart. There was no mistaking the meaning of the words or Naser al-Din's intent.

"Of course. My Lord."

Damavand stood proud and pure against the saturated sky, and all was right in Mazandaran. A quarter of a century ago, Nadir travelled from the other side of Persia to end here, caught between mountain and sea. He had been content to do so and had never looked back.

Well, there would be no looking back from this, either.

"Daroga," Darius appeared at his side, weighed down with luggage. "The ship is boarding."

Nadir thought of trying, yet again, to convince Darius to stay. When he had taken the young boy into his employ, he had never intended this to be the end result. But he knew Darius would never agree. He would not insult him by offering again. Instead, he nodded. "I will come in a moment."

He turned his eyes to the Caspian, green against the intense blue of the sky. Both looked limitless, though he knew every beginning had an end.

"Well, Erik," he whispered, "my life appears to be in your hands. Let us see where you lead me."

a/n: Well. That's that. We're leaving Persia for good now. You could easily view this as the end of one story, and the next chapter as the start of a new one. So if you're really only interested in Erik's Persia years… jump ship now. Next chapter, we're jumping into the future and the significantly less canonical further adventures of Erik, Mojgan, Nadir, and Darius in Paris. See you next week!