The Sultan's seal

50

When Mary next looked at me, her eyes were like coals. She blinked and shifted her gaze around the platform.

“It’s so dark. It’s hard to see.” She pushed herself laboriously up to a sitting position, then to her feet. “I’d like to go home. I don’t feel well.”

I got to my feet and took her elbow. “What’s the matter?” I peered into her face.

“I don’t know. I can’t see.” She shook my hand away.

“You’re getting a chill. Have some more tea.” I signaled to Violet that she should refill our glasses.

“I can’t move my arm.” Mary’s speech had become slurred, with a hysterical undertone.

She staggered away from me, her foot knocking over her tea glass. The moonlight caught the edge of Violet’s kaftan.

“Violet, come and help me. Mary Hanoum is ill.” I realized suddenly that the carriage wasn’t due to return for us for at least another hour and the village was half an hour’s walk away.

I heard a splash behind me and swung around. Mary was gone. I raced to the pool, knelt on the boards, and looked over the edge. The obsidian water reflected rocking shards of moon.

“Bring the lamp,” I shouted. I turned and climbed into the water. The light of the lamp made the surface more brilliant, but revealed nothing beneath it. I struggled through the pool, fighting my billowing clothing, my face against the water, feeling beneath the surface with both hands.

“I’ll find her.”

I looked up. Violet’s lean brown body trailed a black shadow across the walls. She slid beneath the surface with barely a sound.