An Evil Eye

117

Fevzi Pasha rested the tip of the poker against the grate. “The fire taught me that as long as I had a family, I would never be safe. The Russians might try again, and next time they would use my daughter. So I gave her up.”

Yashim thought back to the horrible doll in Fevzi Ahmet’s house.

“The sultan had appointed me to command the fleet, and to build a bridge across the Golden Horn. I had to put her somewhere safe.”

“The sultan’s palace,” Yashim murmured.

“I arranged for her to enter the sultan’s harem, yes. Only an old eunuch would know who she was. So I thought.”

“Hyacinth?”

“Full marks, Yashim. But then you know the story, don’t you? It was me and Hyacinth-until someone told the Russians, after all.”

He was staring at Yashim, but Yashim was aware only of something unlocking in his mind-something about Hyacinth, and the harem, and the dead girls.

“Someone who wished me harm,” Fevzi Ahmet added. “In the circumstances, I imagine it was you.”

Yashim blinked. “Me?”

“‘Me’! You can do better than that, Yashim. But I don’t have time to listen to your outraged innocence. You wouldn’t think it, ambassador, would you?” Fevzi Ahmet called over his shoulder. “Yashim sold my little girl to your old friends. Quite Galytsin’s confidant, I hear.”

“You should have stuck to rowing,” Palewski said glumly.

Fevzi Ahmet’s face twitched as he faced Yashim. “You will bring my daughter here. Hyacinth will find a way.”

“Hyacinth is dead,” Yashim said.

The pasha looked pale. “It is happening…” he muttered. He sprang to his feet and went to the door. “That complicates things-for you. For the sake of your friends, I imagine you can find a way.”

“A way?”

“To get my daughter out of the harem.”

Yashim shook his head. “I can’t just walk out of the sultan’s harem with a little girl.”

Fevzi Pasha whistled into the dark, and two men entered the room: caiquejees both, to judge by their swinging gait.

“These men are going to take you to your cellar, ambassador. Marta-is it? — will accompany you. I’m afraid it won’t be very comfortable, but it depends on your friend how long you will remain there. Tie them.”

The last words were spoken to the caiquejees. They lifted Palewski’s hands and bound them behind his back.

Palewski kept his eyes on Marta, and she on his, even when they tied her hands behind her back. Neither of them spoke.

The door closed behind them. “I don’t know how you plan to get away with it,” Yashim said.

“Interesting, isn’t it? Neither of us can tell how the other will lay his plans. I only hope, for your sake, that yours will be as effective as my own.”

“I’m afraid you overestimate my talents,” Yashim said. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

“So you say. It doesn’t matter, does it? You know now-and your friends downstairs.” He stood up. “You will bring her here. If not I will kill the ambassador, and his woman. And I will kill you, too.” He paused, and flung back his head. “For you, however, I actually have a little gift. An incentive, if you like.”