A/N: Happy New Year! Hooray! I stayed up late last night because Phantom of the Opera was actually on TV...and there was me complaining about there being no good films on French TV at new year. Thanks to BleedingHeartConservative (The book's really just only one little part of his life...it's nice to try and see the bigger picture. So glad you like it!) and fantomesrose (That's OK - I'm actually supposed to be revising at the moment for my exams which are in...gulp...four days. I'll try and keep my updating fast!) for the reviews, they made me very happy!

I was never given an moment's respite; the awe of the crew followed me everywhere, impossible to dislodge. Except it wasn't just awe - it was a curious combination of wonder, disgust, reverence and near-derision that they appeared to show me. Only sometimes I saw fear in their eyes; they were not easy men to scare.

Surprisingly enough, I found out that most of the crew were not full-time pillaging cut-throats. Just about all of them were normally fishermen by trade, who earned a very modest wage and had succumbed to the lures of piracy. They had families, wives, children, mothers, and were actually quite respectable if one was to overlook the plundering and murdering they did. I could almost pity them, if I had any pity left for anyone other than myself in the first place...

But what truly got under my skin was the way they assumed control over me, sometimes forgetting their childish wonder at the powers of Thày Phù Thuy and seeing me instead as their prisoner or captive. The truth was, I was beginning to tire of life aboard the small vessel, albeit having only spent just under a fortnight there. I needed to remind them that nobody - nobody! - has control over the great Thày Phù Thuy, Siyah Hayalet, Silent Viper, whatever I was! My days of humble, floor-scraping servitude had long gone, and I was free to do what I liked.

'Ê! Ban! Hey, you!' A mean-sounding voice cut through my thoughts. Sighing deep in my throat, I turned my head with all the langour of royalty from where I sat perched upon the edge of the boat.

My yellow eyes suddenly flew open in surprise as a hand reached out and tugged me off my sitting place by my shirt. I would have landed in an ungainly tangle of limb upon the deck was I not endowed with sharp reflexes and quick movements. Instead I landed on both feet, not unlike a cat, only to have the hand of my aggressor angrily grab a fistful of the front of my tunic. I think he meant to lift me off my feet at first, as was his habit, but seeing as I was considerably taller than him, he gave it a rapid downward tug instead, bending my back sharply so that our heads were at even height. Though who in their right mind would want my head at the height of theirs was unclear...I assumed this meant the man was rather angry.

'The jewels! Where are they?' he growled, the leathery skin of his face contorted in a vicious frown. It was one of the older, brawnier pirates - obviously sent to politely question me by the others, since he seemed to exert the most physical influence on people. The back of my tunic's neckline was cutting into my skin now, and although I had the strength to stand, I knew it would be at the expense of my clothes. Instead, I fixed his angry, earth-brown eyes with my own brazier-like gaze and gave him a cool, feline smile.

'I warned you they were magical and disappeared when in the wrong hands,' I replied smoothly and calmly. The tanned Annamite frowned; although in this country a man was a fool if he did not respect the world of spirits and magic, he felt slightly suspicious of me.

'Prove it. Turn out your pockets!' he ordered. I did so obediently, but he was not satisfied. 'Your tunic - the bag is under your tunic, then, as we found it first!'

My mind raced. I needed to leave, and quickly. I had had enough here, and they could not hold me. But I was in a tight corner now...I could feel the reassuring presence of the dagger that had found its way into the folds of my clothing for safekeeping...but I did not want to take the murderer's way out.

Instead, I would take the magician's way out.

The basic trick of most illusions is to distract the audience's attention. In the body of the performer once more, I did a very simple, fast-acting trick that completely stunned my "audience". Technically speaking, it knocked him out, but in all truth I didn't particularly care.

My exit would have been smoother if there had not been witnesses...the thump of an unconscious body hitting a bamboo deck tends to attract unwanted attention. But before they could rush at me, I had sharply turned and thrown myself clean overboard.

There wasn't exactly that far to fall, to be frank, but I angled my body to plunge as deep into the water as I could. When I opened my eyes, I realised this did not really matter - the water was so murky with the mud of the plains that anything at least a metre beneath the surface was invisible to those above. Nevertheless, time was of the essence; I knew they would pursue me, and a narrow vessel like the Vinh Quyen could effortlessly catch up with a swimmer. So I kicked my legs out in the blurry, green-brown water and set off at a right-angle from where I had entered the water. It was difficult to navigate in this obscurity, but soon I managed to reach a thicket of reeds before I had to take a breath. Making sure I was well-hidden, I let my head rise above the surface of the lukewarm, murky water and caught my breath as quietly as possible. I could see the Vinh Quyen quite nearby; they were looking me, scrambling like monkeys onto the roof of the cabin to spy for me. I put my head quickly under the water once again, to avoid being seen. As my throat began to burn for more air, I wondered how long I would be able to go on like this. I would need to escape from the pirates, but to do so I would have to leave the safety of the reed bed and swim underwater until I was far enough to risk taking another breath. I grimaced; that seemed to be miles. How could I possibly achieve it?

As I floated there amongst the reeds, the burning power of Thày Phù Thuy seemed to have left me. I felt like Erik once more - a normal man, able to drown or be caught and killed like any other. I felt almost...helpless.

Ah, but not so helpless! Although Erik is a man, he does not have the weakness of one - he will not weep and give himself up for doomed. He is more intelligent than normal men, and is the master of logic. And if Erik is hiding from people who mean him harm, in a bed of reeds at the borders of a river with no means of escape without fainting from oxygen deprivation, what will he do? He will make himself a way to breathe - using a trick so simple it is almost magical! Yes...

I had a knife. I had vegetation to anchor myself to, and to hide behind. It was foolproof.

I took out the blade I had stolen and quickly set to work on one of the reeds. My deft hands had found one that looked suitably old but resilient, and soon I had cut through the stem and was holding it in my hands. Another incision severed the top while I held myself steady by winding my legs about the other reeds, and then my heart leapt with triumph as my deductions proved right and I saw the reed was indeed hollow in the middle.

I risked a glance above the water. The Vinh Quyen was sweeping the area; I would not be able to swim out, for in this murky water I would risk losing my way and hitting the bottom of the boat...I had no choice but to stay put.

I tested my reed. Yes, it was fully functional, and easily lost amongst the thousands of other reeds clustered about the river. I let myself sink, breathing through the reed, tasting the rank, sour taste of old river vegetation in my mouth.

I had no idea how long I waited there; it seemed like hours. There came a horrible moment when something sinewy and thick brushed my leg, and I recalled the many mishaps I had had with snakes throughout the course of my life. Of course there would be millions of water-snakes in this cursed place...and many other unsavoury creatures. I tried not to think of the horrible little invisible things that were most probably attempting to invade my system at that very moment. Oh, the joy of travelling, sometimes...

I stayed for a very long time, lurking beneath the surface like a waterlogged corpse. But of course, every corpse in the water ends up bobbing to the surface, so I tentatively put my head up.

The coast was clear. No sign of the accursed vessel. I could now escape.

Grimly taking my reed from my lips, I slipped out of the reed bed and began to undertake the longest swim I ever had in my whole miserable life.

When I finally reached a solid bank, panting and soaked to the skin, it was well and truly night. My flesh stung from a thousand insect bites, and my muscles were aching so much I could scarcely even stand. I rose from the dark depths of the water like an undead creature from a horror story, staggering across the soft, earthy ground only to collapse at the foot of a large cluster of bushes. I curled up immediately under their shelter, my thin chest heaving. As I lay there, despondent in my exhaustion, I began to realise that my entire body was shaken by something. For a brief moment I felt worried, and then I realised to my great surprise that for the first time in many years, I was actually shivering like any man would. My limbs were stiff and trembling, curled against my body to keep the heat in. The long swim and the night air upon my soaked skin were apparently having their physical effect. I curled myself into a tighter ball, and gradually the shaking stopped and I felt sufficiently at ease to begin to feel the effects of the tiredness sweeping over me. Within seconds my eyes were closed and I was drifting inexorably to sleep...

'Lêve-toi, le mort,' the coarse voice ordered me impatiently. 'Get up, corpse.'

I clutched my head. Not this again...

'I'm not a corpse,' I growled up at the dark, filthy bulk of the man before me. 'I'm ALIVE!'

A glint of yellow teeth above me. 'That's what brings the crowds in,' I was reminded. 'Now get up, before you have to start the day with a lashing.'

'No...'

Something tugged insistently at my clothes. I bared my teeth angrily. 'I said leave me alone!' With the force of my speech, I opened my eyes and had a moment of disorientation when I looked about and saw not the dingy confines of my childhood cage, but a strip of land that ran along the edge a green-brown river, bordered with vibrantly verdant rice paddies. I felt another tug at my tunic and looked down irritably. To my surprise, I was faced with a curious, brown-furred monkey, that looked at me with a bewildered face, caught in the act of searching me for food.

'Agh! Get away!' I cried in shock, unused to being accosted by animals in this manner just after waking. The creature bolted immediately, disappearing into the bushes. Grumbling, I got to my feet, wincing as I stretched the muscles that had been so terribly worn the day before. I decided it was best to get moving straight away; for now the waterside here would not be very safe for me if I wanted to evade the pirates. I could see a cluster of houses ahead, and some way beyond that the beige haze of Haiphong. I had covered quite some distance it seemed; but then again, I was a rather exceptional fellow at times like this...

I made my way with speedy stealth over the ground, taking care not to draw attention to myself, for as I drew nearer to the houses, the more horribly aware I became of the uncovered state of my face. Surely I had thought to keep something with me for such a situation...

For a while I rummaged in the voluminous pockets of my fabric trousers, and then triumphantly drew out with a flourish a rather soggy but fully functional length of material that I deftly used to cover myself. Satisfied that I would not arouse more than odd glances, I continued resolutely upon my way, unsure where exactly I was headed. I decided that I may as well dip into Haiphong once again, to acquire fresh garments, and then from there I was not sure -

Abruptly, I stumbled upon a large break in the thin shrubbery. This break was long and certainly not natural, and through the centre of it ran two long metal bars crossed with planks of wood, raised upon a long hill of small stones. For a second I stared at it, bewildered, then realised that I was looking at a train track. Having left France and its developing industrial technology far behind, this was one of the very first times that I happened to stumble across something modern in a country as far-flung as this. I looked up and down the length of the track, wondering to where it led. I surmised it passed through or started from a station in Haiphong, and led to a northern city...perhaps even the capital. It was an odd sight; a modern, French railway track so near to the native Annamite houses and wild, dusty shrubbery. The metal glinted at me under the baking sun, and I narrowed my eyes, looking south. If I entered Haiphong, I would surely find the station and perhaps even gain admission on board a train north. I smiled to myself. Yes...there was an idea!

Almost three hours later, the first half of my plan had been carried out in a most satisfying manner. I had passed swiftly enough through the town - only stopping once to take a little detour around the hospital, where a rather fine false nose mysteriously found its way my possession - and arrived at the Haiphong station fully equipped with my new nose and a cleaner, more elegant set of garments. My rather emaciated appearence did indeed draw some glances, since I daresay I still looked quite a sight even with my disguise. However, I was fully able to purchase myself a ticket to the northern town of Hanoi, and finally acquaint myself with these new, modern contraptions...

I now sat perched upon one of the wooden benches inside the long, green train, my posture rather stiff due to the slight roughness of the track that shook the carriages as the train trundled through the wild Asian countryside. I was glad of the fact that I had been given quite a large berth by my fellow passengers; none had taken the places on the bench beside me or opposite me, so I was free to gaze out of the large, paneless rectangular window undisturbed. The gentle breeze stirred my hair, and I noticed that as we passed through the rolling fields shrouded with grey-blue mist, old, gnarly men and women paused in their farming work to come close to the track and stare at the train as it went by. There gazes were not so much stares of wonder as stares of distrust; in their eyes, this long metal snake that blew thick clouds of smoke into the misty air and had come to their country with the French, was something unnatural and best avoided.

I smiled as I leaned back into the shadows, out of the feeble light of the hazy sun. It seemed that I had spent so long in less developed, eastern countries, that technology had progressed without me. I regretted this somewhat; clever machines full of tricks like this one had always fascinated me, and I would have had so much to contribute to had I been given the option of staying in France...

As the train curved lazily around a bend in the track, I took a deep breath, catching the rancid scent of diesel fumes in the air. No wonder the native folk seemed so suspicious of this train; it smelt as if it was showering soot over the fields it passed through...

'...et c'est bien de pouvoir enfin prendre le train pour le trajet Haiphong-Hanoi,' a male voice was saying somewhere to my far left. I listened in interest to the sound of the language I had long left behind. 'J'avais ras-le-bol d'être tout le temps obligé a voyager en bateau - surtout quand j'entendais toujours des histoires horribles à propos de ces satanés pirates...'

At the mention of the pirates, I felt for a moment strangely unsettled, until I regained my composure. The Frenchman was only speaking to his companion about how much better and safer taking the train to Hanoi was than taking the boat and risking the pirates, which he had always been told horrible stories about...there was nothing really worth listening to. I crossed my arms, letting my gaze wander across the vast expanse of humid country spread as far as the eye could see, and let myself relax to a certain degree.

The journey to Hanoi was long, and by the end of it I was creeping closer to the window, a little of my claustrophobia beginning to seep in from my prolonged confinement so near to the dozens of passengers that were in the same compartment as I was. The fact that most of them were French brought back distant memories of the chattering crowds I had faced, crowds that had cried out in the same tongue that these others were speaking in now. A few of the wealthier Annamites were there, too, and although they did not bring back any unpleasant childhood memories, they did add to the discomfort I felt. However, I managed to adequately distract myself by keeping my face turned to the window, which had no glass in it and allowed the warm breeze to dry the perspiration from my temples. I knew I was taking a risk by having a false nose as my only disguise, but I felt slightly better knowing that I looked almost bearable to look at. Since disease was rife in some corners of the country, I would probably be regarded as a poor, harmless man who had been stricken by a tropical fever and left looking a little thin on his bones. Probably.

Looking out of the window, I could now clearly see Hanoi in the distance up ahead. As I looked down, I noticed we had left the land and were travelling along a very high bridge, presumably over a branch of the Red River itself. I could see the sparkle of water, and I marvelled at the progress these colonial men had made; this huge, long iron bridge was a true feat of engineering, seeing as it was built over a river that doubtlessly became fierce during the flooding season.

The bridge itself was split into three narrow lanes, the middle one along which the train now travelled. The other two were crowded by pedestrians who, unlike the farmers in the fields I had seen before, paid no heed whatsoever to the green metal carriages that steamed steadily past them. I noticed that almost all of the users of the other two lanes were mounted upon worn, well-used bicycles, on which there was balanced a great range of merchandise and items taken to be sold on both sides of the river. The loads they carried seemed almost comical in their impossibility - how could they balance such a cargo upon two delicate wheels? If one person was to overbalance or even make the slightest wobble, their load would come crashing down, in turn unbalancing others, until every person on the bridge toppled over like a line of dominoes. I was seized by the most bizarre, childish urge to cause one of them to overbalance, but I quickly crushed it, knowing that I had long passed the age of boyish mischief.

After a while, we reached the end of the bridge. I caught sight of a fine metal plaque bolted to the ironwork, which bore the words "Pont Doumer" upon it. Doumer bridge...well, it had certainly impressed me. I sat back once more, eager to explore the rest of this town...

Like a child, I wandered through the streets of the east side of Hanoi. These streets were given interesting names...Rue des Eventails, Fan Road...Rue de la Soie, Silk Road...each street seemed to be named according to what was sold there. I made my way through the crowds without even noticing them, so taken I was by what I saw. Magnificent paper lanterns of every colour, stacks of red candles, bright songbirds twittering away in bamboo cages, rolls of silk and fine brocade spilling over stalls...ah, what memories that brought of the fine waistcoats I wore in Persia! But not only were my eyes assaulted by this grandeur, but my other senses were equally pounced upon. Lan Ong Street met me with a wave of delightful scent as I passed it, the mixed aroma of hundreds of sacks of medicinal leaves, roots, powders and bark. What rich commerce there was here! And the Rue des Changeurs housed the finest jewelry makers and provided money exchange as well. In this street I traded some of the remaining precious stones in my bag for a large sum, despite the exchanger giving me a strange look as I handed over a funereal necklace. I would probably have to dissemble some of the bracelets, anklets and necklaces later to avoid further suspicion...

A short walk took me along another road, the Rue du Pont en Bois - the Wooden Bridge Road, which was near the Ho Hoan Kiem lake. As I went on my way, I passed many old women selling flowers along that road. The scent of the delicate bouquets and the fragile, blossom-laden branches was rather pleasing, and I left it with reluctance.

While I paused before a brocade shop, having come in a full circle now back to the Rue de la Soie, I heard a small voice very plainly and very clearly to my left.

'Maman, why is that man's nose so shiny?'

'Léon!' hissed the child's mother, mortified. 'Don't point, it's rude!' There was a pause in which the woman observed me. It was a very long pause. Obviously she was just as amazed as her child at my skeletal appearance... 'He must be...very ill, that's all,' she finished, then added in a stronger voice: 'It's not polite to stare.'

'But you're staring.'

'Now you hush, young man!' A few moments later, she murmured: 'He must be ill.'

I rolled my eyes then left the stall, sweeping away into the street. The well-dressed mother and her child both stared as I went past, my garments billowing impressively from my thin limbs. Just before I passed them, however, I quickly bent down to the level of the wide-eyed child and whispered to him in a confidential tone:

'The nose is fake.'