Chapter Four: The League of Not So Ordinary Gentlemen

When the lights came back on, Erik's robes were coated with gold dust. The 'Sun God' had disappeared.

"His blood gives me strength!" Erik intoned. "Through a sacrifice, the Sun God drew his strength...from the Sun God, I draw mine. The cycle is complete!"

As he had expected, the royal family and their guests were transfixed on the performance. The princess' husband, Ahmad, was half-asleep on the cushions, and did not seem to have registered what had happened.


Erik's smile widened behind his mask. Had Sadira taken the precaution of slipping something into his drink? If she had, it had worked very well indeed. But now, it was time to end the show. One of his finer performances, if he did say so himself.

Gesturing to the coffin once again, another figure arose...a silver skeleton that moved of its own accord. Erik stepped in front of the coffin, and the skeleton mimicked the movement of his arms as he raised them high above his head.

"The cycle is complete!" He was almost screaming now. "Let the new cycle begin--the cycle of darkness!"

A cloud of black smoke enveloped both himself and the skeleton. When it finally cleared, the skeleton lay in pieces on the stage--and Erik was nowhere to be seen.

Or so it appeared. He was actually concealed just behind the curtain, as the audience burst into applause. After a moment's pause, he stepped out to accept their praise. As he took his bow, he noticed the khanum watching him, as she tossed a large gold purse to him.

He raised one arm in acknowledgement, trying once again to conceal his smile.

Let the games begin, Shaheen Khanum.

*************************

It was ridiculous. He was the captain here, wasn't he? So shouldn't he be able to go where he wished on his own ship? But then, Sebastien had no wish to disturb the ladies' privacy, or to violate any religious codes.

However, the ship's doctor was asleep, and he had to see if the women needed anything. They didn't seem to be responding to his knocks at the door, however.

Feeling a bit silly at his hesitation, Sebastien entered the cabin, closing the door softly behind him. It was really quite ironic--he'd travelled far and wide to escape the hypocrisy of the nobility (or, more accurately, been sent away from it), and now here he was, with a princess in his care.

Her maid, Sadira, was sleeping soundly, curled up in a blanket on the floor beside the princess' hammock. He smiled, as the sound of her snoring indicated the presence of a cat rather than a woman.

He approached the bed cautiously, knowing that he should simply turn around and let the women sleep. For the sake of courtesy—not to mention the laws of the Muslim religion. But there were always exceptions, and Sebastien wanted to see for himself this woman that they had risked there lives for. The frantic pace of events the night before had left him unable to return to his ship until dawn.

Princess Pareesa was unveiled at the moment,and her eyes were closed in deep slumber. Her shining dark hair was only slightly mussed from sleep, and her face was undeniably beautiful--although the telltale signs of her addiction were all too obvious. The dark circles under her eyes, the way her cheekbones jutted out sharply....

They would have to wean her slowly off the drug, Sebastien knew. More than one member of his crew had fallen to opium in the past, and he had stubbornly fought to help them overcome it.

He only hoped that the princess, like his men, would want to be saved.

Sebastien wished that she would awaken, so that he might see her fully animated. It was impossible to tell what she was like when she was asleep. It was, after all, the woman behind the face that mattered. He had a great desire to learn everything he could about her...

I feel a bit like a knight in those old legends, like...what was his name? Sir Lancelot, or something like that.

He laughed to himself, trying to smother the sound. Sir Lancelot, my arse. Don Quixote is more like it.

"Who are you?"

Sebastien stopped laughing abruptly, and looked down in surprise. Princess Pareesa's eyes were open, and she was attempting to sit up in bed. Her voice was low, almost gruff, and he suspected she was parched. Reaching over to the water jug on the bedside table, he filled the cup with water and pressed it to her lips.

"There, now," he said softly, helping her sit all the way up to drink "My name is Captain Sebastien de Chagny, of the ship Le Reve. I have the honor of being your host while you recover."

The princess seemed to accept this, and relaxed onto the pillow. "And where is Sadira?"

She really was beautiful. Sebastien had expected that—in all the stories he had read, princesses were always beautiful. The princess was also younger than he had expected...perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three, at a guess. But it was more than her face that intrigued himshe was troubled, he could see that now that she was awake. And not only by her addiction. He had the insane impulse to embrace her and take her pain away if he could.

He really had gone insane, once and for all.

Oh, well...as long as I'm not chasing any windmills.

"She's asleep beside you, on the floor," Sebastien replied, placing the cup back on the table, and lowering the princess back down onto the pillow. "We offered her a proper bed, but she refused to leave your side. Perhaps when you're a bit better, you can convince her."

She smiled slightly. "Perhaps." She hesitated. "How did I come to be here? The last thing I remember is the No Ruz performance." She paused, and narrowed her eyes as she examined him closer. "Did something happen to your eye?"

Sebastien reached up, and touched his left eyelid. His hand came back dusted with black kohl—he had not been able to wash all the wretched stuff off the night before.

Oh, damn!

"That, Princess, is a story for later, when you are stronger," Sebastien informed her. "It's very long and really requires more than one person to tell it--and possibly a few visual aids."

Erik had made it perfectly clear that Sebastien and his men were not to let the princess know who her benefactor was, under any circumstances. He would visit to see the princess' progress, but they were never to see each other. Sebastien was not sure why--he had tried to ask Sadira before she had fallen asleep, but the maid had been very evasive.


The princess closed her eyes, and groaned. "I don't understand any of this. Why would you wish to help me? You don't even know me."

"Never mind, my lady," Sebastien replied quietly. "For now, just rest. There will be time for questions later."

He waited for her response, but none came. She had fallen asleep.

Sleep well, Dulcinea.

*****************************

"Erik, wake up!" Nadir shouted, giving his friend's shoulders a hard shake.

It was a brave man that approached Erik at all, especially to wake him. Nadir didn't even want to think about what Erik would do to anyone else, had they dared to step into his bedchamber.

Well, the little maid didn't do so badly, all things considered...

"Why are you awake, daroga?" Erik demanded sleepily, breaking free of Nadir's grip and turning over on his side. "It's the middle of the night!"

"It's noon, Erik. Do you see the bright sunlight streaming through the windows."

Eyes still squeezed shut, Erik replied, "No." With that, he flung the covers over his head.

Nadir sighed. "Don't make me throw water on you, Erik. This is serious, get up!"

"Oh, very well," Erik groaned, and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What is it?"

"The khanum wishes to see you on behalf of the shah. If I'm not much mistaken, it's about....your performance last night."

"Took the witch long enough to notice," Erik remarked as he flung the covers back reluctantly.

Nadir paused. "What are you going to tell her?"

Erik rose from his bed, tying on his mask. "Nothing, daroga. Why should I tell her anything? The kidnapping of the princess was an act done by foreign rogues, or possibly part of a new plot to compromise the shah's power. What has it to do with a mere court magician like me?"

"Do you really think she'll believe that?"

"I doubt it. But once I say as much to her, word will spread through the harem and into the shah's hearing. And he'll look ridiculous if he does not explore the possibility. That, at least, will buy us some time."

Time, Nadir thought as he looked at his friend, is not something you have much of, Erik.

"Daroga, what are you staring at?" Erik demanded.

"I was just thinking," Nadir replied. "How much longer do you plan to stay in Persia? The way things are going with the shah and the khanum...I'm only concerned about you, Erik. Between them and your occasional debacles with the hashish and opium--"

Erik sighed, although he sounded slightly irritated. "I will only stay until my palace is complete. I owe this one monument to my old master's teaching. As to the drugs, daroga...I can make no promises there. But rest assured, I shall stay on the alert."

When Erik looked up again, Nadir saw the softness in his eyes, as though the 'court magician' was touched by Nadir's concern.

I shall be on the alert as well, my friend.

"Let us be off, then," Nadir said simply.

***************************

"You wished to see me, madame?" Erik asked, as he was ushered into the khanum's private chamber. "I do hope you were pleased by my performance."

"Indeed I was," the khanum answered, raising her hand to offer him a seat. That day, she was dressed in robes of coral, with matching veils and gold jewelry.

"You have outdone yourself, my dangerous friend. But I must ask you a few questions—I do hope you do not mind."

"Even if I do, madame, you will ask nonetheless," Erik replied wryly, politely refusing her invitation.

The khanum's curiousity was as insatiable as her sadism.

"You aren't wrong," Shaheen Khanum replied. "By now you must have heard of my daughter's disappearance."

"Yes," Erik responded. "The daroga informed me that it happened during my performance."

He was careful not to say too much at once. He would remain aloof as always, dismissing it as something below his concern. No blame could fall on Nadir, Erik would see to that. And the princess and her children had to live free, or Erik would be forever responsible for their suffering by his own conscienceif such a thing existed.

"You were correctly informed," Shaheen said, her tone becoming sharper. "But let us not pretend, Erik, that you did not know?"

"I have no intention of pretending, madame. Such things are for the stage only. If your daughter was kidnapped, surely that is a matter for the shah and his police to handle?"

"It might be, were it not for yourunusual stagehands last night," Shaheen replied. "Especially your 'Sun God'well, you do see how it is, do you not? No one knows those men, so naturally they fall under suspicion. And since, presumably, it is you that they work for"

"Ah," Erik said, as though he had only just caught on to Shaheen's line of thinking. "Those men were foreigners, but I did not know much about them when I hired them. The only reason that they were hired is because I wished for men who could not be bought off as easily as local men. If my skills as a magician were revealed by mere gossip, I would be quiteannoyed."

"That was what I thought, and attempted to explain to the shah," Shaheen replied with a sly smile, moving one hennaed hand gracefully to rest on the edge of her red velvet divan. "Men, however, are stubborn. Especially my son. And Lord Ahmad is nothing short of furious at the abduction of his wife."

Or more accurately, the humiliation of the fact that he slept through it, Erik thought. From what he knew of the grand vizier's son, he was certainly not blameless.

"Madame, I must confess that I am confused," Erik said airily. "What is it that you wish for me to do about this occurrence?"

"Simply this—be on your guard, Erik," Shaheen said, her delicately lined eyes narrowing as she looked down upon him. "You are being watched, my friend."

"Thank you, madame," Erik replied. "I shall be aware of that."

"And Erik?"

"Yes, madame?"

Shaheen leaned forward

"Allah is watching you."

********************************

"Please, mistress, you must eat."

Pareesa was sitting up in her hammock--or, more accurately, she had been pushed into a sitting position. The scent of herbs and broth wafted up to her nose, and the smell nearly sickened her. Food simply did not interest her, it was too much of a burden to eat. And why was it so important to stay alive, anyway?

Suddenly her eyes fluttered open.

"Sadira, is that you?" She asked.

"Yes, my lady. Don't worry." Sadira ladled some soup onto the spoon, and Pareesa forced herself to swallow.

Little chance of that, Pareesa thought dourly. Although she was still in a haze, she had enough of her wits about her to see that she and her maid were both fugitives. And if they were found...Pareesa could not bring herself to imagine what her mother would do. There was also still the matter of how exactly she had come to be here in the first place. That Frenchman, Captain de Chagny, had evaded her questions before.

Although at the time I was convinced I was looking into the face of an archangel, she thought. In the books shown to her by European missionaries, angels were usually represented as having the same fair coloring as the man she had woken up to see. There was something oddly familiar about this man, especially those blue-green eyes...

Sadira had been sleeping at her side for the past two days, taking care of her as always. And yet even she--for the moments that Pareesa was fully awake and in control of her faculties--would not answer her questions. It was unbearably frustrating. Who had arranged for her to come here? Were these men rogues bent on kidnapping her to attain power? If so, they had surely wasted their time.

And why bother caring for her at all? Surely if they wished to ransom her off, it would be more impressive if she were beaten and starved. That, at least, had been the punishment she and her children had been threatened with had she refused to marry Ahmad. It could be that they were good men--Pareesa had heard of such creatures in legend, even had been married to one once. But few men acted out of their own goodwill. There had to be something in it for them--but what?

"Mistress, you are looking much healthier today," Sadira said conversationally, dabbing a wet cloth on Pareesa's forehead.

"I wouldn't know, I don't have a mirror," Pareesa remarked wryly. "But I feel like a corpse that's been buried for a hundred years."

"Or a few hundred," Sadira chimed in, and clapped one hand over her mouth abruptly. "Oh, my lady, I'm sorry--"

Pareesa laughed, but was overtaken by a coughing fit. When it ended, Sadira pressed a cup of water to her lips.

"Don't worry about it, Sadira. It was funny, and in any case you're probably right. I have all the strength and energy of a corpse!"

"You will regain your strength," Sadira replied, urging another spoonful on her.

"I have no strength, Sadira," Pareesa replied with a sad smile. "Dearer than a sister, but you cannot help me much further. The craving preys on me more and more...food has no taste, the sky has no color...there is nothing to look forward to, or even to live for."

"My lady, you're wrong," Sadira said quickly. "Your strength is your own, and you will overcome this. For Mehrdad and Settarah...do you remember them?"

"Sometimes," Pareesa replied honestly. "Are they still....I mean to say, are they...?"

"Alive? Yes," Sadira answered quietly, and from her voice, it sounded as though she were trying to refrain from saying more.

"I'm finished eating, Sadira. Light my pipe for me, won't you?"

She heard her maid give a sigh, but otherwise offer no comment. Closing her eyes, she heard Sadira rustling around for the pipe. Finally, she could smell the cool, intoxicating poison in the air.

Pareesa breathed in the opium again, and closed her eyes as the questions in her mind faded...

Oh, Mehrdad...sleep now, little angel...

Was she thinking those words, or saying them? The haze of the smoke welcomed her back like a familiar friend.

Settareh, wash your face, Papa will be home soon....

Mirza will be home soon...


******************************************

Sadira at last turned away from her sleeping mistress, closing her eyes in a vain attempt to restrain her tears. One moment, Pareesa had been talking normally, the next--she was back in her own world, and Sadira was left alone.

At least she has a chance to recover now, a chance to live her life again. If we can get the children back--when we get the children back--I am sure that she will work twice as hard to become strong again. Settareh looks just like her father, and little Mehrdad...how could anyone ignore him?

I only wish I knew that they were safe.

Erik had said that he would send word, and try to buy them a little time in which to get to the children. Sadira hoped it would not be long. When she thought about what those poor children had been through, the children that she had helped to raise, it made her sick with fury.

And then, there was Erik himself. Sadira had no clue how to take him, except simply to obey his orders. He could be absolutely terrifying one moment, and the kindest and most considerate of men the next. He changed about as often as the wind. And Sadira worried that, despite the reassurances of the daroga, that he would also change his mind about helping Princess Pareesa and her children. She still was not sure why he had agreed to help her in the first placeshe had been too relieved and grateful to ask.

She wasn't even sure what her feelings on the subject of Erik were. He had, after all, caused the death of her former beloved master--though the extent of his involvement was unknown to her--and the separation of her from her mistress until the princess' remarriage. Sadira had not been permitted to accompany the family in their exile. In her more lucid moments, Pareesa had said that was for the best. Towards the end of his life, Mirza was hardly recognizable as the noble man that he had once been.

Much as she had loved her former master, Sadira had been born and raised in Mazenderan. She knew the functions of the royal court as well as she knew the back of her hand, and no one noble and good could possibly be expected to last long. Yet Mirza had made her believe, for a short time, that perhaps he would triumph. The only weapon Sadira had was her silence, knowing to simply obey orders, never question, and pray that no one noticed her.

And yet Erik, the man that all of Mazenderan feared, treated her as an equal. She had heard stories that he was not so terrible all the time. After all, Erik was a friend of Nadir Khan, who Mirza had a high opinion of when he was alive. The daroga was a good manand a good man would not have a demon for a friend, would he?

The world was a disgustingly complicated place. Was there nowhere on earth where people could simply eat a meal without worrying about being poisoned, or take a walk in the garden without fearing being shot?

A knock sounded at the door, and Sadira's eyes darted to Pareesa, who was laying quietly with her eyes closed, occasionally murmuring under her breath.

She rose, and crept to the other side of the cabin as quietly as possible--not that it was really necessary. Pareesa would not have noticed if a herd of elephants stampeded through the room.

"Who's there?" She demanded.

"Only me," came the voice of one of the crew members, in heavily accented Farsi. "How is the princess?"

She opened the door to the short one called Jules, and he stepped inside.

"About the same.," Sadira replied, indicating Pareesa. "I can't get her to eat very much at one time, but at least she's eating."

"Better than nothing, I suppose," Jules agreed.

Sadira glanced over at Pareesa's prone figure, and sighed. "I suppose," she repeated.

"The captain sent me to ask if you needed anything, and also to tell you that our mysterious friend is visiting tomorrow night--it's the soonest he can get away. He wants to discuss the plans regarding the children."

About time, Sadira almost said. She bit back the words just in time.

"I see," she said at last. "You may tell the captain that we require nothing right now, but please thank him."

Wait. Erik, here? In the same vicinity as Pareesa! Allah, if she sees him--

Jules nodded, and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Sadira cried. At that moment, Pareesa stirred in her sleep, uttering a low moan. But she soon lapsed back into silence, as the smoke curled and wafted around her.

"What is it?" Jules asked, pushing back a considerable amount of spiky hair from his face.

"When he comes, and you need to summon me, do not mention his name!" Sadira whispered. "I cannot tell you why, so please do not ask. Just do as I request!"

"Very well," Jules responded, furrowing his brow quizzically. "I'll go now—"

He was cut off by a sudden shriek from Pareesa. "Get your hands off of me!" she cried. "Mirza, help me! For the love of—no, no! NO! You are not my husband! Leave me alone!"

"Yes, go!" Sadira urged. "Thank you, sir, but I must tend to the princess now. I shall call if I need assistance."

Very reluctantly, Jules turned to leave. Sadira dashed over to her mistress, who was now thrashing about wildly in the hammock.

"You're safe, my lady!" Sadira called, hoping that some part of Pareesa was still listening. "He can't hurt you here. And he never will, not while I'm alive!"

She knew the words were true. Pareesa would have done as much for her, and as it was, Sadira would do whatever was in her power to keep her mistress from Lord Ahmad.

I only hope I'm equal to the task!

**************************

Nasir Shah waved his hand carelessly, and the slave removed the midday meal dishes. At that moment, another slave entered.

"Lord Ahmad, Your Excellency."

"Send him in," Nasir replied, leaning back in his throne. After a day of tending to tedious matters of state, an interview with his brother-in-law would prove to be quite entertaining indeed.

Ahmad apparently hadn't waited for the slave to officially summon him, for he stormed in with all the grace of a raging bull.

"My brother, what troubles you?" Nasir asked airily, as though he didn't know. His sister had managed to get herself kidnapped by someone or another, and the shah had a sneaking suspicion who was behind it. And the fact that Ahmad, her husband and the son of the new vizier, had virtually slept through her abduction, was the icing on the cake.

"My wife is still missing, as you well know!" Ahmad exclaimed.

Oh, he was entertaining, Nasir thought with a smile. Flapping about like a rampaging peacock in his blue and green robes, Ahmad looked furious.

"No one is more distressed about that than I," Nasir replied. "For it is also my younger sister that is missing. All my family is dear to me, you know."

"Of course, O Shadow of God," Ahmad responded, regaining some of his composure at last. "But...forgive me, brother...I believe that your court magician has had a hand in this!"

Oh? And what other news do you have for me, brother? The sky is blue? The sun shines? He is as responsible for Pareesa's abduction as he is for the theft of many artifacts from the royal treasury!

Yet Erik was no good to him dead...not yet. Not while his palace was still under construction.

And there was still motive...why would Erik conspire to have Pareesa kidnapped? Was it insurance, in case Nasir decided he no longer had a use for Erik? If so, he would be disappointed....Pareesa was quite dispensible, as were her two wretched children.

Then why? Pure amusement? Nasir had an easier time believing that. Erik was not one to shield himself behind others. But the abduction of a royal family member was dangerous territory, and quite a length to go to for mere amusement.

"I know you do, brother," Nasir said coolly. "As do I. But the extent of his involvement is unknown."

"Then why, if I might ask, is he not under interrogation?"

"Think, brother!" Nasir urged impatiently. "What good would that do? If it is Erik, then he would tell us nothing...he is not quite human, I sometimes think. But through him...we may find my sister and her abductors. And they might be more willing to speak, if proper force were applied where necessary. It is all a matter of waiting, you see."

Ahmad sighed. "And in the meantime, the rest of us look like fools."

"Indeed," Nasir said sharply. "For my sister's slave was clearly involved, and yet you allowed yourself to be tricked by her."

Ahmad glanced up sharply, white-hot fury in his eyes at the reminder of his humiliation.

"However, do not doubt that punishment will be given out to those responsible. No one can defy the Shadow of God."

Nasir clapped his hands. "If that is all...audience concluded. You may go."

Ahmad clearly had more to say, but the shah was not interested. And even Ahmad dared not risk his own favor by antagonizing the shah.

"Yes, O Shadow of God."

***************************************

Keeping his head down, Erik moved soundlessly through the streets of the Mazenderan port. All sorts of filth resided here. Nadir had been well informed about that much.

It is somewhat comforting to know that not all of the royal treasury is badly spent! He thought, turning a corner in time to avoid a cloud of dirt kicked up by a passing camel and rider.

Underneath his mask, Erik's features twisted in a scowl. As it was, the garment he currently wore would have to be burned after this excursion. There was no potion he knew of, be it Gypsy or Russian or anything else, that would ever remove the stench.

The cold, damp night air kept most stragglers indoors, for which Erik was grateful. It had been all he could do for the past twenty-four hours not to rush to the dock where Le Reve was moored, and see the princess with his own eyes. He could not be sure why it was so important to see her, only that he must do it.

I am not doing this for you, Mirza Taqui Khan! I do not even act for my own conscience. Only to prove the khanum wrongI must prove her wrong! I cannot allow her to win this battle! She shall not triumph over me!

At long last he spotted the docks, where Le Reve was moored. Captain de Chagny had given him very precise directions. Obviously, his methods were not as sloppy as his appearance usually indicated. Chagny always looked as though he were a day or two behind in his shaving, and dressed as though he simply closed his eyes and put on whatever item of clothing he found first.

Which was very unusual, if what Erik suspected was true. The name of Chagny was a familiar one to most of Europe, particularly those involved in the arts. That wealthy aristocratic family had been patrons to several of the great masters at one point or another. And Captain de Chagny's manners were characteristic of an aristocratic upbringing--roughened by months at sea, of course, but still present for those who knew what to look for.

But how did a son of such a wealthy family end up as the captain of a mercenary ship? Erik was curious, though he would not indulge such pointless mental hypotheses by asking.

Besides, who am I to judge? Was my family not also wealthy and respectable once?

He reached the moorings, his steps echoing on the distressingly unsteady wooden planks. He moved closer to the docks, attempting to make out which ship was Le Reve...

"Monsieur?" inquired a man's soft voice somewhere to Erik's left. He turned, his long black cloak sweeping around his shoulders. In the near-darkness he recognized the face of Raphael, Chagny's first mate.

"It is I," Erik replied simply, fully aware of Raphael's nervousness, although the latter did his best to control his nerves—the only telltale sign was the young sailor's shaking hands.

"Captain de Chagny is w-waiting," Raphael stammered.

Erik sighed. It was no surprise, but an annoyance just the same. Would it be too much, only once, for someone to treat him with something other than fear or hatred?

Mentally, he took stock. Nadir does not fear me, Princess Pareesa must despise me, and Sadiraoh, who knows? Does it matter at all? I am a monster, and will never be treated as anything else. Chagny tolerates me because I pay him, but his men go in fear of me.

He had best control his temper, as that would only make the poor man more nervous. And then Erik would have to find his own way to Le Reve, which would be time-consuming as well as inconvenient.

"In that case, lead on," Erik commanded.

***********************

Gritting his teeth, Sebastien edged down the foremast, holding onto the cordage for all he was worth. Henri had noticed earlier that one of the ropes was frayed, and since most of the crew was busy with accomodating their new guests as well as their normal duties, the task of repairing it was left to Sebastien.

Which would have been fine--for anyone else.

Almost there, he thought, his stomach knotted tightly. Inch by inch, the deck was looming closer.

God, I hate heights.

It was ironic that a sailor like him, noted for his bravery (which, Sebastien had to acknowledge, had little if anything to do with heights), should have such a strong, irrational, mind-bending fear. Most of the time he managed to keep it hidden from his men--but sometimes--

As he reached closer to the bottom, he saw two figures in the dim light from the one oil lamp burning on the deck. Several swear words in many different languages--French, Farsi, and English--raced through his mind. It figured. Erik would arrive at a time like this...

Sebastien hastened his descent, hoping to at least make a suitable presentation to his strange new employer. He brought his foot down on the next rung, and in his hurry, completely missed. With a loud crash, Sebastien landed directly on his face on the deck.

He raised his head, and found himself staring at a a pair of immaculate black boots. Craning his neck, he could see a tall man completely dressed in black with a touch of some other color--violet or green, perhaps, it was impossible to tell in the dim light--with a white porcelain mask covering his face. Behind him, Raphael stood, looking unsure as to whether to run and assist his captain, or to burst out laughing. He couldn't have blamed his comrade if he had laughed, really.

Immediately, Sebastien wished that the ocean would simply swallow him up on the spot. Though there might still be a way to retain some sense of dignity.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Sebastien smiled pleasantly.

"Good evening, Monsieur Erik."

Erik acknowledged the greeting, inclining his head slightly. "Good evening, Captain. I trust the deck is in excellent condition?"

The amusement in Erik's voice only fueled Sebastien's embarrassment, and he was grateful of the dark. At least Erik would not be able to see him blushing furiously. Not to mention that the fall had hurt, and he was going to be bruised in several places tomorrow.

"Oh, yes, it is, Monsieur Erik," Sebastien answered. "Very sturdy indeed." How he managed to sound so nonchalant when he felt anything but was beyond him.

Hm, perhaps I should have been an actor instead. Who knows? I might have found less trouble that way.

"You are not hurt, Captain?" Raphael spoke up at last.

"Of course not," Sebastien answered. "A few bruises never killed anyone. Well, come below deck, Monsieur Erik. Raphael, go and fetch Sadira. Don't mention why--she will know."

"Yes, Captain." Raphael sounded relieved as he dashed off. Not for the first time, Sebastien found himself cursing the superstitiousness of some of his men.

When they reached Sebastien's cabin, he offered Erik a seat immediately. This common civility taken care of, he proceeded to offer refreshment as well. This was refused, or rather avoided completely, when--

"What in seven hells have you done to your hand?" Erik demanded, his yellow eyes fixed on Sebastien's hand, poised to take hold of the wine bottle at the center of the table.

With a start, Sebastien realized that his right hand was scratched and bleeding.. It had most likely happened during his fall.

"Curse it," he said, studying his hand "I didn't even realize--it doesn't hurt at all."

Erik did not answer. Instead, he rose from his chair and seized Sebastien's wrist, all but dragging him to gas lamp. He leaned in closer to study the wound.

His hands are like ice, Sebastien thought with a sudden start. And just as pale.

"Superficial cuts," Erik murmured, almost to himself. "No puncture wounds...best to disinfect it right away." He turned to glare at Sebastien. "I trust you have something to clean and bandage wounds with?"

"Of course," Sebastien replied, slightly irritated. "Now if you would please return my wrist back to me, I can see to my hand."

Abruptly Erik released him, turning away with the fluid grace that Sebastien had come to expect from him. "As you wish, Captain. Only...do try not to test out any other hard surfaces from any height. It would be very tiresome for me to hire another mercenary at this point in time."

Sebastien, who had been in the middle of disinfecting his wound, merely winced. The disinfectant was stronger than he'd thought. Reaching for the roll of bandages in his cupboard, he set about bandaging his hand.

"Don't worry, Monsieur," Sebastien replied, turning back to Erik. "I shall try my best not to cause you inconvenience. It is the least one gentleman can do in the service of another."

Erik gave a derisive laugh. "Gentleman? What leads you to suppose that I am such a creature? Did you hit your head during your fall?"

"No," Sebastien replied. "And I said that because--"

At that moment, he was interrupted by a discreet cough from the doorway. He looked up to see the maidservant Sadira standing in the doorway. Judging by the state of her lavender gown and hastily arranged headscarf, she had only just awakened.

"Oh, good. Have a seat, Sadira," Sebastien said, striding over to pull out a chair for the girl. She sat down immediately.

"And now," Erik remarked, "We wait for Nadir. He said his duties would not permit him to arrive on time, but he promised to show himself."

******************************

Erik sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He hoped that Nadir wouldn't be too long—he did not enjoy having to interact with other human beings at all. And Captain de Chagny, carrying on as though everything were perfectly normal, only added to his annoyance.

To the captain, it was probably only politeness. To Erik, it was a mockery of what he would never have.

His eyes flickered to Sadira, who was sitting just across from him. Her eyes were respectfully downcast, in the same manner of all the servants of the palace, as she waited for someone to address her.

Her headscarf covered most of her hair, but there were a few tendrils that had managed to creep across her forehead. There were dark circles under her eyes, which became more visible when she finally felt his gaze and looked up.

"I must look a fright. Do forgive my appearance, please," she said.

"There's nothing wrong with your appearance," Erik nearly spat. It didn't matter that the girl didn't know of his own ugliness, nor did it matter that she had no idea what caused his bitterness.

Her confusion was evident in her face, and Erik felt sure that she would have backed away had she not already been seated. "Did I say something wrong, Ma—Erik?"

Erik sighed. There was really no point in bothering to explain. "Yes, but it does not matter. You could hardly be expected to know better."

Good Heaven, I am a condescending devil this evening! He thought wryly.

Sadira held his gaze. In anyone else, the look on her face might have resembled a glower--had she dared to do such a thing, which he doubted.

"My lady's condition is not much better," she said at last. "Although she is eating a bit more, which is something. But I worry all the same. And she continues to ask questions--"

"Yes, Monsieur Erik, I meant to ask you about that," Captain de Chagny remarked, placing a glass of wine in front of him. "How do you recommend that we field them?"

"Any way you must, Captain," Erik replied. He forgot himself temporarily, and spoke in French instead of Farsi. "I could care less, so long as you do not tell her about me."

Captain de Chagny leaned forward. "Might I inquire why that is?" He asked, also in French.

Sadira looked from Erik to the Captain, but remained silent.

"You already did," Erik replied, his voice dangerously calm and light. "But do not pry too closely for an answer, Captain. If the princess discovers that I am involved...it will be inconvenient to hire a new mercenary, but do trust that you are...dispensible."

Chagny arched one fair eyebrow. "Threats are unnecessary, monsieur. Advice was my only true goal, but I shall make do."

"Excuse me," Sadira interrupted, and both Erik and the captain turned to stare at her. "I can't understand you. Can you please speak Farsi? If it's something I should not hear, you can simply ask me to wait outside."

"That is unnecessary," Erik replied in that language, fixing her with a steely look. She, at least, understood why his name could not be mentioned in front of the princess.

"I apologize," Chagny said, addressing Sadira. "Do not hesitate to remind us if we forget again."
Sadira smiled. "I won't."

A knock sounded at the door, breaking the tension. Captain de Chagny strode over, and opened it to allow Nadir inside.

"Forgive my lateness," Nadir said, glancing at all of them in turn. "But the shah kept me later than usual today, given that I am in charge of the search for his sister." He smiled, as though fully aware of the situation's irony.

In all your wildest dreams, my friend, I doubt that you ever imagined being a double agent, Erik thought, once again wondering what inspired the loyalty and friendship that Nadir seemed to feel for him.

"You shall have to tell us about that, as we have much to discuss tonight," Captain de Chagny replied, showing Nadir to a seat, and taking his own. "Let us begin. Monsieur Erik, you have the floor, as the English say."

Erik stood, taking in the expression on each face. Nadir looked interested but apprehensive, and Sadira was sitting perfectly still, her eyes focused on Erik, waiting. Captain de Chagny was leaning foward, his elbows on the table. His expression was one of grim determination.

We four are the only hope for the princess and her children now.

"As you wish, Captain. I shall begin."