An Evil Eye

39

As Dmitri predicted, the gate opened as the distant bells of the monastery rang for vespers.

“I’ve brought my mate again,” Dmitri said, jerking his thumb.

Yashim put a finger to the brim of his hat. The doorkeeper let them through the gate and closed it after them, shooting two bolts before he walked away.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said gruffly, over his shoulder.

Dmitri picked up a watering can from beside the gate. “You can take the mattock,” he said.

Yashim swung the mattock over his shoulder and followed the gardener to the well, set back behind a hedge of prickly pears and a drooping willow tree. He laid the mattock down, and glanced over the prickly pears.

Across a courtyard, neatly paved in a geometric pattern of small stone blocks, a tilted apple tree was laden with small fruit. Just beyond it stood a fine konak, with spreading eaves and whitewashed walls.

The shutters on the ground floor were closed.

Beyond the konak was another door, which belonged to a small lodge, or guardhouse, built up against the wall.

A dozy blackbird sang in the apple tree. Otherwise the courtyard was perfectly still. A huge fig drooped its man hands from the southern wall, and from it arose the hum of drowsy bees; the cobbles below were stained and spotted by dropped fruit.

A pair of swallows worked the intervening air.

As if to dispel a dream, Yashim brushed a hand through the air above his head, and approached the konak across the dry cobbles.