Chapter One: Best Laid Plans

"My lady, your mother is here," the young maid announced.

Her mistress, a thin, dark-haired woman lying on a beautifully brocaded red divan, raised her head a little.  It took her much effort to even manage that, and underneath her dark skin was an unhealthy grayish hue, not even brightened by the richly embroidered gown that she wore.

"Send her in, Sadira."

"Yes, my lady."

A moment later, a regal woman entered the chambers. Her harsh, brilliant vitality made a stark contrast to the ghost of a woman lying on the divan. Diamonds glittered at her wrists and throat, and rubies adorned her elaborately embroidered robes.

"My dear Pareesa, how are you?"

Pareesa laid her head back on the pillow, closing her eyes. "You know how I am, Mother."

"Did I not tell you that the opium would help? You feel better now, don't you, my dear?"

"I feel nothing at all, Mother, which is just as well," Pareesa replied quietly. "I care about nothing."

"It is better that way," the khanum said. "You never did learn that, Pareesa. Your brother was a fool to marry you to that damned Mirza Taqui Khan. His weakness infected you as well. It is lucky that he was eliminated before he tainted your children beyond repair."

Children…oh yes, I did have children once, didn't I? A son and a daughter…they seem like faded shadows now, and I cannot even remember Mirza's face anymore.

I was desperate when I first took the opium—I'd never touched it before. But the pain was so strong, I fell directly into Mother's trap. She is a cunning woman. Perhaps if I were more like her, she would love me.

It matters little anymore. I don't even care when my new husband wishes to be with me. I am quite content to lie down and let him feel like a man. Nothing matters at all.

"And you were an equal fool, Mother, in bringing in that wicked court magician. He has been nothing but trouble."

"My darling, how perceptive of you," the khanum responded. "I did not think you still had that much lucidity left. Erik may be trouble, but he is most wickedly entertaining."

"How many must die before you are satisfactorily entertained, Mother?"

"A good deal," she replied, glaring at the nearly prostrate form of her daughter. "For I am growing more bored by the moment."

Pareesa let the insult fly by, blurred as it was by the haze of opium. "Then I won't keep you, Mother."

The khanum smiled, but there was nothing kind or maternal in it. "Have a long and pleasant rest, daughter."

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Outside the door, Sadira paused in the corridor. A man's voice was speaking.

A man? In the royal harem? Surely he must be mad! Or in the wrong place—if the khanum ever found out—

Her fears quelled as she realized that the man's voice was coming from just outside the women's quarters. She peeked around the corner.

The daroga! What is he doing here?

Almost unconsciously, she strained to hear the conversation. This was wrong and she knew it. Maids of the imperial palace did not meddle in the affairs of men. In the eyes of these particular men, however, she was no more than a piece of furniture, to be used and cast aside, regardless of feeling or intellect.

"…Princess Pareesa…..marriage…audience…"

"Curse these echoing halls!" Sadira muttered under her breath, watching the daroga hand a purse to the nearest eunuch. "What does that man want here?"

One of the eunuchs spoke up, something that ended with the word 'Erik'.


Sadira's blood ran cold…she knew that name, as surely as she knew her own.  The khanum's own court magician, her 'Angel of Doom'.

The daroga was shaking his head fiercely, and speaking quite forcefully now.

The Angel of Doom is involved? But what should he care what happens to my mistress? I must find out!

"Sadira!" It was her mistress' voice calling her, very faintly. "Sadira, come and light my pipe, if you please."

"Yes, my lady," Sadira answered, casting one final glance back at the departing daroga. Suddenly, she had much to think about.

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"Have you found anything?" Erik demanded, looking up from the workbench of his private quarters. The bench was situated just to the right of the doorway, and a collection of odd inventions, neatly organized bottles, and other fascinating objects adorned the shelves above it.

"Greetings to you as well," Nadir replied dourly. "And no, not yet. The eunuchs are apparently too afraid to speak of the princess, on pain of losing their tongues completely."

"I take it you mean in the literal sense," Erik replied, laying down the delicate tools he had been using.

"How else? That, at least, means that she is alive."

"I know that she is alive, daroga," Erik snapped. "I wish to know in what condition. Then perhaps these damned nightmares will stop!"

"I understand that, Erik."

"Do you? I think not. But it is unimportant. We have, at least, divulged something from this lack of information."

"Which is…?"

"And you call yourself a chief of police?" Erik teased. "Very well, then. The princess is obviously a prisoner, as no one has seen her since her marriage, and is still somewhere in the palace. Most likely the royal harem."

"You should have been a detective," Nadir responded with a wry smile.

"I should have been a great many things, daroga," Erik replied, his smile almost wistful. "But let us not speak of what should be. It helps nothing. I want her wretched screaming to stop! I want her husband's dead eyes to stop haunting my sleep, do you hear me?"

It was a silly question. He was shouting, and he knew it. With a sigh, he turned from Nadir, resting his head upon his arms on the worktable.

He heard footsteps behind him, and felt the gentle weight of Nadir's hand on his thin shoulder.

"I hear you, Erik. I will continue with the search."

"Thank you," said Erik, his voice uncharacteristically fragile. "You are one in a thousand, my friend."

"A thousand? Is that all? I would have thought at least a million!" Nadir replied, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Erik chuckled, and raised his head. "A million it is, then."

"Good. I never have been much for haggling. Now, are you going to tell me what you are building here?"

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Many hours after Nadir had left for the evening, Erik lay in bed, staring at the tiled ceiling.

At  least the nights in Mazenderan were pleasant, if one had comfortable enough accommodations. He himself had little cause for complaint. The quarters given to him by the shah were the most coveted in the palace, with their carved tile walls, furniture of the finest quality, and wide terrace. Throwing the silken sheet over his face, Erik burrowed further into plush depths of the bed.

It was not the pleasant air that occupied Erik's thoughts at the moment. It was the quick breathing of someone in his bedroom.

An assassin? Perhaps, though he's certainly taken his time in getting here. I have been at court for quite awhile!

Now he heard light footsteps, moving across the floor, drawing nearer to his bed.

Erik lay perfectly still, maintaining the same slow, easy breath. Without stirring any of his other limbs, he reached underneath his pillow with one arm, and drew out his weapon, and slipped on his mask.

He felt the hand upon his sheet, about to draw it back.

Oh no, my clever friend—you will not have the pleasure of a private viewing!

The would-be assassin did not have a chance to react. Before he knew what was happening, the Punjab lasso was around his throat, and Erik held him firmly by the nape of the neck.

"You are late, my little friend," he said silkily. "And also quite rude! You might at least have waited until I was awake, instead of trying to murder me in my sleep. I daresay you are not the first, but you are certainly the clumsiest. I could have heard you if I was blind and deaf!"

There was no response, other than a frantic gasping for air.

"You are not much for conversation, either, are you?" Erik reached up to touch the assassin's face—in the darkness, there was not even moonlight to indicate the attacker's features.

But when his bony fingers touched the assassin's face, he realized—

"A woman!" he exploded. "My God, this country does have everything."

Without removing his hand from the lasso, Erik lit his bedside lamp, and lifted it to confirm his suspicions. He gave a disgusted snort, and promptly released her from the lasso, dumping the woman unceremoniously to the ground.

"Are you an assassin, banu?" Erik demanded. "Or perhaps a concubine seeking a…diversion? Very rarely is there a woman in my bedroom, you know. All the rumors circulating the harem—oh yes, I know all about them. Now tell me why you are here, and I will end your pathetic existence!"

The woman spoke at last, through the expression of sheer horror on her face.

"I…I hope you meant, or."

"Impertinent as well as rude!" Erik roared, somewhat embarrassed to be caught in such a simple grammatical error.  "You should know better than to speak to your superiors in such a fashion. Who are you?"

"M-m-my name is S-sadira," replied the young woman, pulling herself into a kneeling position. Her eyes still did not meet his. Her long, dark hair hung in messy clumps, and her face veil was askew.  She looked scarcely more than seventeen, hardly more than a girl.

When she finally looked up at him, he saw that her eyes were large and dark--and at the moment, very frightened.


By her painted hands, Erik knew instantly that she was no assassin. He doubted that she had ever so much as carved vegetables.

"Well, Sadira, will you tell me why you are here?"

"The daroga was at the women's quarters yesterday, asking questions about the princess. I thought perhaps it was you who had requested to know."

"Why?"

"Because the daroga himself would never inquire after that sad event. He knows better. It takes a special kind of arrogance and pride to challenge the secrecy of the Mazenderan court. And so—"

Erik laughed out loud. "A reasonable deduction, girl, but it still does not explain what you are doing in my bedroom."

"I am the maid to Princess Pareesa," Sadira replied. "My mistress is in terrible danger, sir. She needs help, and I know of no one else to ask for it."

"You are loyal, little Sadira," Erik replied, looking down at her. "Brave as well, although you should certainly not pursue a career as a spy. Arranging hair ornaments is much more in your line, I should imagine. What state is your mistress in?"

"She is constantly drugged, sir. The khanum gave her a supply of opium when she returned to court. It was a wedding present. And my mistress was so desperate to alleviate the pain of losing her beloved husband that she took it…and continued to take it."

"I see. She became addicted, then?"

"Yes, sir. She is no more than a ghost now, not even able to remember her own children."

Erik felt a rage wash over him, like a wave breaking upon the sand. Well, madame, it is at least a comfort that you treat your children and your subjects with equal disregard and contempt. He had always known the khanum was evil, but this confirmed it.

But I am no better, am I? Perhaps not—but he could still feel pity, and that was something. Perhaps he could still do something to help this wretched woman, and strike a blow to the khanum at the same time. Provided, of course, that she never discovered he had been involved. Erik may have been arrogant, but he was far from stupid. "I see. Thank you, Sadira." He climbed out of bed. "You may sleep here."

"What?" the maid looked considerably taken aback. "You cannot very well go sneaking back through the palace at this hour. In the morning, if the need arises, you will simply say that I called on you for your…services. That is common practice here in this heathen palace, is it not?"

"Y-yes, sir. It is." Erik saw by the expression on Sadira's face that the common practice was no new concept to her. He felt a sudden stab of pity for the girl, and cursed himself for giving a damn at all. "I will sleep in the next room. Go to sleep, little one, and may that bed grant you more pleasant dreams than it has accorded me."