Page 199 of Dragon Slayer

“I think it’s reckless,” the man said in a rush, gulping air. “Ambitious, yes, because no one save crusaders have ever accomplished such a thing. But it is dangerous, and yes, it is reckless.” He swallowed, and tears stood in his eyes. “Would you throw all of your army at it, even if they died and failed?”

“Yes,” Mehmet said, without hesitation. “This isn’t about an army, Halil. It’s about our future. As Ottomans. As leaders of the world.”

Halil bowed his head.

“My father,” Mehmet continued, “was a great man. But a weak one, ultimately. He got tired – of war, of having to choose what was most important. I know no such fatigue. The most important thing in the world is to take Rum. That’s what a leader must do: choose what is most important. Would you argue against me?”

“I…no, Your Majesty.”

“Will you refuse to serve as Grand Vizier if I continue to plan the siege on Byzantium?”

“No, Your Majesty. I am loyal to you always, in all things.”

Mehmet’s smile was tight, and toothless. He turned to Val. “Do you hear that, Radu? In all things Halil is loyal to me.”

When Halil glanced toward Val, quickly, touched with revulsion, Mehmet stepped in close to him and snapped his fingers, drawing his attention.

“Loyal to me,” he repeated, voice low, and silky. Val knew that tone well, and it sent goosebumps rippling down his arms. “And I am the sultan; you obeyme, and Radu is none of your concern. Yes?”

Halil swallowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Mehmet turned and walked back to the table. Reached with deliberate slowness out to the salver, and picked up a handful of gleaming coins. Then he spun and threw them at his Grand Vizier.

Halil scrambled to shield his head with his arms, crying out in alarm. But most of the coins clattered harmlessly across the floor. A few tipped up on their sides, and rolled until they hit the wall.

“I don’t want your gifts,” Mehmet said. “I want the city. Will you help me take it? Or will you keep gossiping about me?”

Halil lowered his arms slowly, wobbling where he knelt, tongue flicking over dry lips. He swallowed, and made a visible effort to gather himself. “I will help you take it, Your Majesty.”

Mehmet nodded, and motioned to the guards, who stepped forward. “Take him away, I’m tired of him.”

Halil moved as if to prostrate again, then thought better of it, and let the guards escort him out.

When they were alone, Mehmet turned to Val, hand resting on the tabletop. “He’s been wanting to broker a peace treaty with the Romans, you know.”

“I’ve been in your presence when he’s urged it,” Val said. He didn’t say that Halil Pasha had come to him on more than one occasion now, begging Val to help him sway the sultan. “He’s not a young man anymore. And war is expensive, and stressful, and gets people killed.”

“War is progress,” Mehmet countered. “You have to conquer people before you can shape them into what you want.”

Val held his gaze, and his hands tightened into fists in his lap. He thought of the taste of salt tears, and the roughness of tree bark under small fingers. Thought of a young sultan’s face tipped back, bathed in early light, eyes shining like a panther’s.

“Yes,” he said mildly, and his face felt stiff. “I suppose conquering really is the only way.”

Whatever Val’s expression was doing, Mehmet turned away from it with a smile, humming softly under his breath, pleased.

The problem with his plan, Val thought, but didn’t say, was that sometimes people didn’tstayconquered.

~*~

Val could see the effects of the wind that tunneled down the aisle, blown in through the open doors of St. Sophia as the cardinals led their overwrought procession toward the altar. The Romans around him pulled their cloaks in tighter around hunched shoulders; breathed warm air into their cupped hands. A child wiped his running nose on his sleeve, and an old woman’s teeth chattered. Val couldn’t feel the cold, though, nor smell the incense, nor the beeswax candles, nor the press of bodies, all those overlapping human scents.

Beside him, Constantine managed to whisper without moving his lips too noticeably. “I imagine it must be bittersweet to sit through a service like this.”

“More like unfamiliar,” Val whispered back. He’d shielded himself from the view of anyone besides the emperor, but he enjoyed the little thrill of feeling like a little boy sharing secrets in church. “I was brought up Orthodox. I’ve never sat through a Catholic service before.”

“Really? But your father…the Order of the Dragon…that’s a Catholic institution, is it not? They’re crusaders.”

“I have no idea what sort of institution it is. All very hush-hush. Father never talked about it with us. I always liked to imagine there were brown robes, and iron masks, and lots of chanting in old crypts.”

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