An Evil Eye

78

Hyacinth padded softly across the polished stones, jangling his keys. Today he had started to wear his woolen slippers; he felt the cold. The valide had ordered the fires made up, and when he was called from his own snug cubicle he startled at the wind that blew down the Golden Road.

“Evet, evet,” Hyacinth grumbled as he approached the little door.

Yashim, with a woman.

“Well, well,” he said, blinking up at them both. “Another mouth to feed?”

Yashim said quietly: “Another mouth, Hyacinth, if you want to put it like that.”

The woman stepped into the vestibule. The wind caught at her veil and she raised it with gloved hands, revealing a face Hyacinth could not recall.

The corners of his mouth turned down. “Coming, going, there’s nothing regular anymore, is there?” He peered at Melda more closely. “I don’t know you.”

She said nothing, so he added: “You don’t look well. Pretty and young, not like the rest of them here, perhaps. But not very well.”

“Melda needs rest, Hyacinth.”

“What does the valide say, Yashim efendi?”

“You needn’t trouble the valide, Hyacinth,” Yashim said firmly. “I’ll look in on her now. Anyway, it’s just for a short while.”

“I’ll put her in the old dormitory. Light the fire.” He took the girl by the arm. She flinched, but either he didn’t notice or he chose to ignore it. “Melda, is it? You’ll be all right. Old Hyacinth will see to that.”

He hefted the keys in his other hand. Yashim put his hand to his chest, and bowed.