“You should sleep, Stoyan. I’ve kept you up half the night.”
“Do not concern yourself. You must rest. You have a difficult task ahead of you.”
“You mean trying to find clues that may not exist?” I got up, hugging the cloak around me and wondering if I dared try to sleep. The nightmare was not far away.
“I mean teaching a farm boy his letters. I think I will have more success as a tutor than you.”
“Making a scholarly girl into a fearsome warrior? I doubt it. Stoyan, since you are staying up, would you mind not dousing the lantern for a while?”
“I will be here, just by the outer doorway. I will place the light where you can see it from your pallet. Sleep well, Paula. Your dreams will be good ones now. I know it.”
I lay on my bed watching him through the half-closed door. The lantern light warmed his broad features and gave a glint to the long-lashed yellow eyes. His dark hair fell forward, tangling over his shoulders as he sat cross- legged with the sand tray on his lap. Once or twice he took his gaze off the little tree and glanced toward me, then turned his attention back to the task. His concentration was exemplary. I’d have him writing his name before he knew it. But that might be as far as it went, because in one month’s time, when the a, we would part ways and I’d never see Stoyan again.
As I fell asleep, it came to me that this would be like discovering a new book, a compelling one full of surprises, and then, just when I was becoming absorbed in the story, having it snatched away half read.
When I woke, I found I had slept right through the morning call to prayer, and I could not recall a single dream.
Maria had a stomach upset. It seemed unlikely she would be sufficiently recovered by evening to accompany us to Barsam’s house. Anticipating the morning inspection, Father was edgy and distracted. I could not attend the supper without a chaperone. Claudia would be looking after Maria. Stoyan did not want me to stay at the han at night without him, nor did he want Father to go to the blue house without his guard to protect him. They were on the verge of a full-scale argument when I interrupted with what seemed the obvious solution.
“I think Irene would come as my chaperone,” I said. “She’s highly respected in the city, she’s a friend, and she already knows about Cybele’s Gift and the supper, so there’s no problem with confidentiality. And if she brings Murat, we’ll have two bodyguards. Shall I ask her?”
Father nodded agreement, his mind clearly elsewhere. He had not told me where he had hidden the papers concerning Cybele’s Gift, but I knew him well enough to be quite sure they would not be found. All the same, the prospect of the Mufti’s men performing a search of our private quarters was troubling.
They arrived while I was still eating breakfast. In addition to several men I took from their robes and hats to be imams, prayer leaders, there was a small force of Janissaries. I remembered Irene’s comment on the nature of the visits the Sheikh-ul-Islam was carrying out and began to worry about Father. Giacomo was already down in the courtyard, welcoming the delegation.
“The Janissaries are only for show,” Father muttered as he put on his hat in readiness to meet the visitors. “To intimidate us into providing whatever the Mufti’s after. Don’t look so worried, Paula. Leave me to deal with this. I’m used to providing just enough information to satisfy without revealing what I don’t want known. They’ll be talking to Giacomo first. Stoyan, slip out with Paula as soon as they’ve gone inside.”
It had rained overnight. Stoyan and I walked to Irene’s house between showers, and we talked very little on the way. There was a constraint between us this morning. Each of us had made certain remarks last night that fell outside the boundaries of convention. He was quiet and remote now, I reasoned, because he was regretting allowing that to happen.
“You must be tired, Stoyan,” I observed as the wall of Irene’s house came into view down the street.
“Not so weary that I cannot fulfill my duties, kyria.”
I sighed. He was right back into mistress and servant mode. “That’s not what I meant,” I said, but probably he was wise. Mistress and servant was what we were, officially, and it would be a lot easier to keep things that way. Maybe, once tomorrow’s supper was over, I would have no more nightmares. Maybe I wouldn’t need a friend to hold my hand in the middle of the night and listen as if he understood everything.
Some time later, I sat with Irene overlooking her rain-soaked garden, sipping a cold drink. As soon as I had mentioned Maria’s illness, my hostess had offered to chaperone me at the supper, which had saved me from having to ask her. She expressed the view that, at the very least, she could prevent Duarte Aguiar from spoiling my evening with his pestering. We made arrangements to get to the blue house—she and Murat would meet us at the han, from where we would all go on together. Now I was making a more awkward request.
“I would like to work here on the colonnade today, if you agree. It would mean bringing out the box of papers I have been studying. The light is better here. I will use a table, of course, and keep everything clean and dry.”
Irene saw through it instantly. “And you can remain somewhat closer to your young man,” she observed with lifted brows. Stoyan was standing not far from us.
“My guard,” I corrected. “That is part of the reason for my request, yes. Father was expecting the Mufti’s men this morning—he thanks you for the warning, by the way. He’s sensitive about my safety.”
“Paula.” Irene lowered her voice. “You’d do well to avoid getting too close to this guard of yours.”
I was so taken aback I could find nothing to say.
“You have not noticed the way he looks at you?” Irene murmured.
“It’s Stoyan’s job to look after me,” I told her. “I have complete faith in him. Are you questioning my choice of guard?”
“Not at all, Paula, only what might arise from it. You are young. This is a fine specimen of manhood, an unpolished gem, one might say. But not for you. I see a certain affinity between you. I hear how quickly you spring to his defense. You know he used to work for Salem bin Afazi, don’t you? The merchant who was done to death in the street not long ago?”
“Salem was a friend of my father’s. We know all about it. The murder happened while Stoyan was away. He was devastated when he returned to find his employer dead.”
“You discuss such personal matters with him?”
