“There is a sponge in the basin,” she explained.
As she turned to go, Yashim said: “My arm is still very stiff.”
She shot him a smile and for the first time he saw her serious dark eyes twinkle.
“Then you will have to wash slowly,” she said, sweetly. And was gone.
Yashim sighed, and heaved his legs off the bed in a rustling cascade of napkins.
He washed himself, as the girl had said, slowly.
Aware that there was little time. Wondering what had become of Murad Eslek. Wondering what Marta meant to his friend Palewski—and he to her.
[ 98 ]
What is the time?”
Yashim had opened his eyes to find Palewski perched at the foot of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, looking patiently into his face.
“After midnight. Marta has gone to bed.”
Yashim gave him a weak smile as a stray thought entered his mind. To Palewski I am only half a man—but the half he likes. The half he can trust. And he decided never to tell his friend about what happened between him and Eugenia at the Russian embassy.
“I have to thank you, Palewski, for saving my life.”
“And I you, my old friend, for allowing me to hobnob for an hour or so with the sultan.” He clapped his hands together. “It was a capital party!”
Yashim looked blank. Palewski told him about Derentsov’s challenge and the intimate conversation he had held with Sultan Mahmut IV.
“I get the impression, Yash, that the sultan has sleepless nights over this Edict of his. It will make him a very lonely man. He makes a lot of enemies.”
Yashim nodded. “I’m beginning to think that murder is the least of it. And tonight, but for you, they would have killed me too.”
“You were in a public place.”
But Yashim said: “I forgot something I’d learned. Working in the stoke-holes of the baths was one of the jobs that Janissaries took up, if they survived the purge. Tell me, you saw my signal?”
Palewski recounted the series of events which had brought him and the seraskier to the doors of the baths.
“The seraskier?” Yashim put in. “If I hadn’t been half-dead -he’s the man I need to speak to. I ought to go and find him.”
Palewski put out a restraining hand. “Marta left me particular instructions, Yashim. She expects to find you here in the morning. You are her patient. Perhaps you would like to drink some tea? Or something stronger?”
Yashim closed his eyes. “I’ve found out where the fourth man is going to appear.”
Palewski looked anxious. “Good, good,” he murmured. He straightened his back. “I’m sorry, Yashim, but do you know what I think? None of us are players in this scheme. We’re witnesses, at best: even you. It’s too—” He searched his mind. “You told me you had the impression that it was like a feast prepared, meze and a main dish, remember. Well, I believe you were right. We’re guests. And it’s a dangerous party.”
He stood up carefully and approached Yashim, crouching beside his pillow.
“You aren’t going to find anyone alive. None of the other cadets were killed where you found them. You won’t find this one being cooked in front of your eyes, either. Take this rest. You can go off, if you feel fit, very early in the morning after Marta has seen to you again.”
Yashim stared at the ceiling. It was sensible advice. He’d lost the time he needed, and nothing would bring it back. He wanted so much to do as his friend suggested, sleep—and trust to Eslek. He could be at the Kerkoporta by first light.
