"We've been here two days and haven't seen anything. I can't see why we should remain among these barbarians any longer."

"And come back to Tehran empty handed?" Nadir snapped at his man, Darius. "Better we die in this muddy hellhole of humanity."

The travel from Persia to the Nijni-Novgorod fair had taken its toll on Nadir, his servant Darius, and their small regiment. Traveling light did them no favors either; the crushing crowd made even their tiny retinue feel claustrophobic.

"If only our Russian was better...we shouldn't have relied on that drunken trader's description. Forgive me for saying this, but I'm afraid we've been sent on a wild goose chase and I'm not sure for what purpose…" Nadir mopped his brow, grateful he could speak plainly with his trusted assistant. To insinuate the shah had miscalculated in any way was an act of treason and there was always someone in the Persian court ready to draw blood to get even an inch ahead of someone else.

"The music from heaven...a face from hell…" Darius repeated the trader's description to himself as he made them both a fresh cup of tea.

"Tomorrow is the last day," Nadir said, taking a strong, quick gulp of the scalding liquid. "If our only option after that is returning to the palace without this so-called marvel for the king, perhaps we would be better off letting a cut-throat from one of the alleys end us while stealing our purses."

Darius gave a grim chuckle.

"...One more day. And then…" Nadir glanced at Darius. He nodded in understanding and both men drank the rest of their tea in silence, dreading a journey back home without producing the main character in a wanderer's insane story.

Nadir gave a quick thanks to Allah for the crowds thinning out on the last day of the fair. They rambled from tent to cart to event to performance but still found nothing matching the description. He was grateful that Darius kept close watch on him, acted as his protector in the unscrupulous tumult allowing Nadir to focus on his task.

"There - do you hear it?" Nadir's head snapped up.

"In this din? What?"

"Music…" Nadir could hardly pluck the faint song from the air among all the noise but it was there. Of course, there was music all around, but this was different. Just as described, it was as if a virtuoso was playing a violin. "Perhaps our luck has changed! This way!"

Nadir pulled Darius through the crowd, chasing the elusive notes among the crush and the cacophony. Just as he was certain he found the source, it ceased abruptly. A wave of panic washed over him and he turned round and round on the spot, trying to relocate it but it was over.

"There - " Darius tapped him on the shoulder and pointed towards a traveler's caravan. A crowd of people were leaving a tented area, distraught expressions of terror etched on their faces. One woman had fainted off to the side and was being revived by a weeping girl. A banner written in French stretched across the top - "The Music of Heaven, the Face of Hell". It was exactly as the traveler had promised! For the first time since he had set out on this ridiculous quest, Nadir felt that success was in his grasp. His heart leapt to his throat as he dashed through the canvas flaps of the tent.

Inside, a few rows of benches faced a curtained area. Whatever was on the stage was cloaked with heavy canvas and drapes.

"Hello?" Nadir called out in the empty tent. In his hurry he didn't look where he was going and stepped in a pile of someone's vomit, slipping backwards, almost losing his footing. Darius steadied him as Nadir called once more under his breath for allah to curse this land.

A man whipped a flap open from the side of the tent, his two beady black eyes peering out from an unwashed face. He said something in Russian, then, realizing they didn't understand, cycled through a few more phrases before settling on French. As that was the one language Nadir understood best outside of his native tongue, he was pleased this stranger spoke it.

"The last day's performance is over. You'll have to wait for next year," the man said.

"That's - that's unacceptable! I have been sent here to speak to a musician, the musician who performs here."

"Musician?" The man gave a bark of a laugh, tossing his dark hair back. "What were you told?"

"There was a musician...a musician with a, err, peculiar deformity…"

"Well, that's half right." The man leaned back, sizing Nadir and Darius up, wondering if they were worth his time.

"There is an event in Persia…"

"Persia!" The man spit on the ground. "Might as well go 'round the world. Not interested."

"Would it interest you to know the shah himself has requested this musician?"

"The shah?" Another full-throated laugh, an eyetooth glinting gold in the darkness of his mouth. Darius produced a royal insignia to verify their claim. The man's laugh died away but a smirk still played on his lips.

"The musician and his retinue will be compensated for making the journey. If the musician is offered court residency, well…" Nadir let the thought of a palace salary dance in his mind. The man scratched at the scraggly stubble on his chin, considering the offer.

"Maybe you should meet your fabled musician first."

"Thank you, that would be ideal." Nadir was eager to finish this mission and return home; he would bring back the performer come Hell or high water.

The man held open the flap to admit them to the backstage area. Nadir passed through and saw that the object that was draped on the other side with canvas and curtains was, in fact, a cage. The floor was covered with straw, like an animal's cage, but in one corner were untouched bowls of gruel and water and in the other, a beaten chamber pot. A heavy chain ran through the center of the bars, nailed into the dirt outside of the cage. In the center of the cage, a small, figure lay still. Was it an animal…? Nadir approached the bars, squinting through his pince-nez, trying to determine the shape.

"- - is that a child?!" he gasped.

The man lay a hand on his shoulder and drew him back. "Don't be fooled - and don't get too close to it. That's no child; it's a monster."

The thing in the cage stared at Nadir with flat, unblinking eyes.

The man called out behind him and another man appeared. Nadir continued to stare at the shape in the shadows as the two spoke. Presently, the other left once more.

"You intrigue me; we'll have it give you a performance and then you'll tell me if you think the shah would still be interested." He rattled the chain, jerking the thing in the cage across the floor of the cage and sending a spray of hay through the bars. "Hear that? You get to play once more."

The creature's eyes now lit up as it scrambled to its feet. Nadir could now see that yes, it must be a child. Judging by the small frame, he surmised the boy to be about seven, perhaps eight. Perhaps he could be even older considering how emaciated he seemed; his shabby clothes hung loose on his frail body. The boy's face was just as described, that is to say, he must have a severe deformity because his entire head was covered in sackcloth with just two holes cut for his bright, almost glowing eyes. In addition to the chain he wore around his neck, he was manacled at both the hands and ankles. Nadir wanted to cry out, to rip the chains from this child, but he kept silent. There was a time to rail against injustice and cruelty, but with these unstable foreigners in a strange land, he held his tongue.

The other man came forward with a violin and both men brought out lashes from their belts, their eyes fixated on the child.

"You know the drill," the first man said, slapping his cat o' nine tails on his thigh. The child hurried to the back corner of his cage, hands clenched, eyes caught on the instrument. The second man slid the violin through the bars, leaving it close to the lip of the cage. The moment he retreated, the child darted forward, gently caressing the violin like a sacred treasure. The man nodded towards Nadir, as if to say watch this.

The child straightened, assuming a completely upright posture and tucked the instrument beneath his chin with reverence. He moved the bunched cloth of its crude mask out of the way to get better purchase, caressed the bridge of the violin with his fingers, and touched the bow to the strings. What followed next made both Nadir and Darius gasp. An unearthly song, a sound unlike any other, enveloped them, moved them so deeply, reached a place within themselves to tease out sorrow and joy in equal measures. It felt as if the recesses of their hearts were being mined for sound, emotions were being unearthed and spun into a sweet, strange song. The moment it ended, Nadir felt as if he had been suspended then released, dropped back to the earth.

"My god…" he whispered, blinking away tears that would not fall.

"Yes," the man smiled wryly. "Each song is different. Sometimes it plays on the same themes, but it's always like this. Anyways, the show isn't over." Rattling the chain around the boy's neck, he snapped, "Finish it, you curr!"

The boy's eyes momentarily passed over Nadir, the light fading fast from them. Mechanically, he took a deep bow. As he came up, he stripped the rough cloth covering from his head unveiling a truly repulsive visage.

"My god!" The words seemed to leap straight from Nadir's gut. Darius made a sound as if he was trying to suppress a retch and turned away from the sight. What they saw could hardly be described as a face, it was so deformed. Lips terribly twisted, a mottled black socket on one eye, skin turned and red and tangled and purple on the right side. A dark shock of hair fell over the better side of the boy's face. On the other side, a huge bald spot revealed withered skin in a ring around a piece of exposed skull.

Nadir's heart sank; he now knew why the shah sent him chasing after this child so urgently. The shah was a capricious man, easily bored and prone to searching for extreme experiences. Being the shah came with many perks but it could be like living in a gilded cage as well; he couldn't walk among the people as anyone else so any and all pleasures and entertainment had to be brought to him. With an expanse of leisure time before him, his demand for novelties never ended.

Worse than the shah was his spoiled and endlessly cosseted eldest daughter. The shah had more than a few wives and several concubines. They had borne him children as was their duty. But his firstborn daughter had been the light of his life, a creature who could do no wrong, and he indulged her increasingly wild demands. Nothing was ever enough for her - and where the shah liked extravagance and oddities, she enjoyed violence, cruelty, and the macabre. She was no more than 11 and ruled the palace like an insatiable terror.

This child was exactly the sort of gruesome thing she would adore.

"Come forward so our guests can get a good look." The man jerked the chain, banging the boy's face against the bars. He didn't make a sound, evidently inured to this sort of rough treatment. Nadir leaned forward, peering into the boy's eyes. Perhaps he was a savant, the sort of person that didn't know anything more than the one thing they were fixated on. That sort of thing would help him survive the cruel world that surely awaited him within the walls of the Mazenderan palace. He would perhaps be unaware in a way of whatever was to be inflicted on him…

"Does he speak?"

"Speak? Yes. It used to be mute, just lay there like a little corpse. One day it got - er, sick. Wouldn't move. We thought it was done for. The next day, it's up and awake as if nothing ever happened. Spoke for the first time, very proper French. Asked for the fiddle, said he knew a way to make even more money for us. We didn't know it could even speak, let alone play an instrument. There used to be a famous fiddler that passed through these fairs; maybe that's where the little beast picked up the notion. Since it wouldn't stop begging for the damn thing we finally got it one and that's when this little routine started. It was right; we made more money with this whole musical act…"

Perhaps the boy wasn't altogether a fool. Nadir swallowed down a lump in his throat and leaned in, looking up at the child's curious golden eyes.

"Don't get too close. It's got the devil's face as well as the devil's quick hands." The man once more pulled Nadir back from the bars. "The damned thing loves to pick pockets. Check yours to see if it's got something…"

Nadir didn't need to check; the boy's expression said everything. Guilt, then anger, then childish bitterness came across that hideous face. The man started screaming at him, raining insults on the child. The second man rushed forward, whip at the ready. The boy cowered, lip curled in a snarl yet his body was flattened to the floor, prepared to suffer the abuse that was fast coming. With the second man at the door, eyes locked to the child, the first turned a key in the cage door and opened it. Wrapping the lashes in his fist, he used the handle of the whip to thump the child mercilessly across the back.

"Turn out your pockets, you disgusting wretch!" The man grabbed the child by the back of his tattered shirt and shook him hard. He turned out his pockets and the man reached down and quickly snatched an object from man hurriedly took up the violin and the bow - a move that elicited an animal cry of rage Nadir could scarcely believe came from such a small creature - and backed out from the cage quickly. They slammed the door and locked it once more. The child's gaze followed them, eyes blazing.

The man wiped the sweat from his grimy brow with the back of one hand and held out the other. "Is this yours?"

In his fat, filthy palm sat Nadir's pocket watch. It wasn't exactly a sentimental object, and surely not the nicest thing he owned, but it was a pretty enough piece. The main feature was the elegant enamel backing depicting the shah's palace backlit by a hazy purple sunset, the moon and stars just starting to peek above the minarets. No doubt a priceless treasure to a child that had nothing, not even a toy. He took it back, turning it around a few times before tucking it away in his jacket.

"So…" the man asked, "would the shah be willing to pay well for our act? I assure you, there's nothing else like him…"

Nadir felt bound by duty to bring the child back to the palace. If he came back empty-handed, he would fall from favor fast and he was already in a perilous position at court. But there was no doubt that if the shah - or worse, his brazen daughter - wanted to keep this boy, he would be sentencing the child to an unforeseen but no doubt grim and tragic life. Would it be worse than what he was suffering right now...? There was something there within him, a spark Nadir could sense. Perhaps he could inspire the shah to give him a little education, a means to escape a life of mindless servitude...

Nadir swallowed down another lump. "Perhaps we should discuss this opportunity…"

The man clapped Nadir on the back. "Let's have some tea and talk about your proposal."

Nadir would reflect back often on this moment over the coming years, think back on the agreement he had made that sealed the fate of someone Nadir would always consider a genius and eventually a friend. Was it better that he went from a cage of crude bars and filthy hay to one of gold and silk? To cleanse his body but corrupt his soul? To go from the familiar sting of a whip across his skin to the endless unknown cruelties the princess would practice upon his heart and mind?