Irene was coming toward me, eyes dark with purpose. Behind her, Murat walked with knife in hand. Now the cat being was making no attempt to hold them back. What they intended, I did not know. Not to kill me, surely. Hadn’t Irene said my head was a mine of useful information? But maybe once I’d answered the third riddle, they would already have all the information they needed. After this, maybe I would become superfluous.
“Lay a hand on her and your life will be measured not in days but in minutes!” yelled Duarte from the opposite side of the chasm.
Stoyan said nothing. His amber eyes were fixed on Murat, his expression truly frightening. He raised one hand above his shoulder. In it was a little knife, poised for flight. It was a warrior’s pose, full of a graceful, deadly purpose.
“Wait, Murat.” Irene did not raise her voice. She and her steward halted, three paces from me. “Aren’t you going to answer the riddle for us, Paula?” the Greek scholar went on. “You must know the solution. You know everything. Don’t you?”
I hesitated, my heart thudding with tension. How to respond? It was a riddle that could have several answers, any one of them appropriate. A trick? I had not asked what would happen if I got any of the riddles wrong. Would the others be allowed to go on, leaving me behind? What if I could not guess it and Irene could? I cleared my throat nervously.
“Have you an answer for me?” the catlike creature asked. “Time runs short. You have other challenges to face.”
“Don’t disappoint me, Paula.” Irene’s voice was almost friendly. When I glanced at her, I saw the sly smile with which she usually accompanied her little comments about my naivete where men were concerned or my inadequate understanding of fashions in dress. “You’re such a clever girl. I hate to see you squander your talents and your freshness on a misguided fool like Duarte da Costa Aguiar. Now would be a very suitable moment to change your allegiance. Answer your riddle, then come with Murat and me. You must know why we’re here. With your talent for working things out, you must have seen it quickly. I was on the verge of making you part of the secret, you know. The first time you visited the hamam, I was so tempted to offer you an invitation to join our sisterhood, but it was too soon…. You’d love it, Paula. I need an assistant, a clever younger woman whom I can train in the rituals… someone who can share with me the rare and dangerous thrill that comes from outwitting the most powerful of men…someone who will, in time, learn to love being a leader as deeply as I do. Your father would let you stay. An opportunity to remain in Istanbul, housed with a respectable matron, studying Anatolian culture…. Do it, Paula. Let go of your misguided pirate and your Bulgar brute.”
I tried to take in what she was telling me while some part of my mind still wrestled feverishly with the riddle. “Tell me,” I said, “was it you who had my father beaten so Duarte would be the one to acquire Cybele’s Gift and lead you to this place? Did you befriend me just so you could get to Barsam’s supper without revealing you were a buyer? Why did you need to be so secret about it? Why not just bid like everyone else?”
She gave a slow smile. “Oh, you are quick, Paula,” she said. “And observant. I saw the miniature, but it did not occur to me that the artifact was broken until you pointed it out. I would give much to know how it was those manuscripts came to your attention when I did not know they were in my own collection.” Her voice changed abruptly; her lovely eyes gleamed with a new emotion, something intense and dangerous. “The statue is rightfully mine,” she said. “I am Cybele’s priestess in Istanbul. I revived her worship; I drew women from all cultures and levels of society to the temple I established, a secret temple within the safe walls of my home. You do not imagine those women visit me solely to study, gossip, and enjoy my hamam, surely? That is what visitors such as yourself are shown—those whose worthiness to join us is still being assessed and those like your acquaintance Maria who come quite innocently, without knowing the true purpose of my establishment. In fact, you almost stumbled on the secret the very first time you were in the hamam, when the women were talking about the Mufti’s interest in our cult—it is most fortunate that your Turkish is not as good as your Greek, or you might have understood better. Once we knew you were awake, we altered the conversation somewhat. I did intend you to hear us mention Cybele. I wanted you to be intrigued, excited, eager to return.”
“I can’t believe this,” I breathed. “You, a devotee of a pagan earth goddess? I know you have always valued freedom for women, but…” It was hard to accept. Irene’s elegance, her sophistication, her smooth manner, none of these seemed right for wild, earthy Cybele with her bloody rituals and her affinity with creatures. There was neither love nor reverence in Irene’s voice when she spoke the goddess’s name. “A temple. Where?”
“Behind the library is another part of my house, an inner sanctum where we enact our rites. What better place for Cybele’s Gift to be displayed? Why should the pirate be entrusted with such a powerful symbol? Why should he be allowed to carry it over the mountains to some complete backwater? Folk in such places don’t know how to cherish precious things. The statue will be broken and chipped and forgotten within one generation. Or Duarte will bear it away from the mountain and sell it for his own profit. We cannot allow that to happen, Paula. Cybele’s Gift belongs to me. Join me, and in time it could belong to you: the statue, the cult, the power. And the unparalleled excitement of the game—a true battle of wits. On one side, the Sheikh-ul-Islam and the other leaders of established religion in the city; on the other, myself, a mere woman and an infidel, presiding over such rites as would turn their hair white in a day if they could be present. I am always a step ahead, always just out of their reach. What clever girl could resist that?”
Irene glanced at Murat as she ended this extraordinary speech, and I saw him smile for the first time since I had met him. It was a little, tender, intimate smile, and for a moment, as he gazed back at her, his icy blue eyes
