Page 197 of Dragon Slayer

The man wore a costly, richly-embroidered kaftan of purple silk with ivory buttons, peacocks stitched along the hem. White salvar, and gold slippers, and a snowy turban set with a jeweled peacock brooch above his round, sun-lined, pleasant face.

“Good morning,” he said.

Val glanced at the man’s hookah, and noted, absurdly, that someone must have carried it out here for him, because it looked too heavy for its owner. “Good morning,” he echoed, and started to move on.

But the man said, “You look tired, child.”

He couldn’t have; he didn’tfeeltired – not in a physical sense. But he could feel the tightness in his own jaw, and wondered how haunted his eyes looked.

“You wouldn’t be interested in sitting for a spell and keeping an old man company, would you?” The man smiled, revealing small, tobacco-stained teeth, surprisingly intact for a mortal of his advanced years.

“I…” Val started to refuse, but couldn’t. In all his years at court, no one had ever invited him to do anything. No one save Mehmet, and that was never really an offer. Everyone knew who he was, andwhathe was to their sultan, and they shunned him on principle. “Why not,” he said, voice flat to his own ears, and sat down on the bench.

The man smiled around the stem of his pipe, and hummed a pleased note as he puffed. “Isn’t the frost lovely? And once it melts, I think we’ll have a fine, clear day ahead of us.”

Val made a quiet, agreeing sound. He didn’t know what this was, or what this man might want.

“Spring will be here soon,” he said, “and then I suppose the sultan will march for Constantinople.”

“I suppose,” Val said.

“You will accompany him, I should think?”

Val’s skin prickled beneath his clothes. “I accompany the sultan always.”

“The two of you share an admirable closeness.”

Val turned to look at him, frowning. “Envious?” he asked, levering venom into the word.

The man chuckled, unperturbed, staring at the frozen fountain in front of them. “Oh, no. I have friends aplenty.”

Val snorted.

“But I admit that this isn’t my first morning sitting out here in the cold. I’ve been trying to catch an audience with you, Prince Radu.” His gaze slid over, then, sharp as steel, intensely clever, but not unfriendly.

Val’s stomach rolled, though. Here was the proposition. He couldn’t think of anything bolder than a man making a pass at something that belonged to the sultan. “Why?” he asked through his teeth.

“Why do you think I might wish to speak with you?”

Val lifted his lip, a silent snarl, the pressure of a true growl building in his throat.

“Notthat, dear boy. Lower your hackles.”

Val felt his face go blank with shock.

The man turned away, and puffed on his pipe. In perfect Romanian, he said, “My servant is waiting on the other side of the hedge behind us. He’ll guard us, but still, I’m sure we don’t have much time. I’ll speak plainly. They don’t dare say it, but there are a number of those at court who dislike the sultan’s plan to lay siege to Constantinople.”

Another shock: just the boldness that had led this man to say such a thing out loud. “Halil Pasha, I should say,” Val said, voice faint with a mounting anxiety.

The man nodded. “Oh, yes, the Grand Vizier hates this plan. But there are others, too. The Grand Vizier’s friends. Me, for instance.”

Val let out a short, sharp breath, steam pluming. “Whoareyou?”

“That’s not important,” the man said with a wave. “What’s important is that you know there are those of us who – if we were able – would argue against this war. And” – his gaze returned, full of unexpected sympathy – “who regret the things that have happened to you, Radu.”

Val sat perfectly still a moment, unable to breathe.

“I fear,” the man said, glancing away, mercifully, when Val began to shake, “that the problem with monarchs is that they can’t be checked. Whatever his breeding, whichever god he prays to – a king is a king, his word is law, and we all serve at his pleasure. Even when those pleasures are cruel…and unrequited.”

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