“Why are you telling me this?” Did she expect him to comfort her, or to exact retribution from the pasha’s family? What was this about eye color, Saba’s, his own? It was nonsense and he rejected the insinuation he knew she was making.
“I was going to tell her today.” Balkis slumped against the door. “Please, Kamil Pasha, sit. I’ll take only a few more moments of your time. You must hear the rest. I’ve waited a lifetime to tell you this. I’m an ill woman, and there might not be another opportunity.”
They heard a wail from the other room, and suddenly Saba stood in the hall, a piece of paper dangling from her hand.
“Tell me what, mother?” she cried out. “Tell me what?” The bruises showed livid against her chalky skin and deep lines scored the side of her mouth. The transformation from a few minutes earlier was so extreme that Kamil was afraid she had been attacked in her room. He held a hand out to her as if she were a frightened animal.
“Saba Hanoum, what’s happened?” He stepped toward her. “Is someone in there?”
“Stay away from me,” she screamed with such anguish that Kamil feared she had lost her mind.
Balkis stood by the door like a statue.
“You told him?” Saba asked her.
“Sit, my daughter,” Balkis said calmly. “I haven’t finished the story yet.”
“Leave,” Saba screamed at Kamil. “Leave now.”
Balkis walked over and slapped Saba with such force that she fell against the wall.
Kamil grabbed Saba’s arm to help her up. “I’ve had enough of this,” he exclaimed angrily. “Would you like to leave, Saba Hanoum? I can escort you wherever you wish to go.”
Balkis stood before her daughter. “It’s important,” she said, dwelling on every word, “for you both to know.”
Saba refused to meet her eyes. Instead, she concentrated on smoothing her robe and adjusting her headscarf. Her breathing sounded labored.
“Your brother is here,” Balkis announced, “in this room. I was Alp Pasha’s lover and Saba is your sister, Kamil.”
Saba bent over and pressed her fingers to her forehead.
“Right after she visited me, your mother left your father and moved to Beshiktash with her children,” Balkis told Kamil.
“How do you know that?”
“I made inquiries.” She lowered her eyes. “I loved your father. He was the only man I ever loved. I still wait for him to come out of that mosque, even though I know he’s gone.”
Moving as if in a trance, Saba passed Kamil and went to her mother’s side. Balkis clutched her hand. “I never told him about you.” Balkis rocked back and forth, crying without tears. “I wish I had.”
“I don’t believe this.” Kamil headed for the door.
Saba ran after him and pressed Malik’s letter into his hand. “Return it when you’ve read it.”
Kamil had almost forgotten Avi, who waited until Kamil had climbed up to Charshamba before coming to walk wordlessly beside him. Kamil was too stunned to speak.
“I saw them, bey,” Avi said. “Do you want me to follow Amida?”
Kamil looked down at Avi’s eager face and at the small bandage that still adorned his head. He squatted beside him. “Yes, follow Amida. But don’t take any chances. These are dangerous men. I just want to know where Amida goes and, if you can manage to overhear any of his conversations, who he talks to and about what. But this isn’t a game. If anyone notices that you’re hanging around or following Amida, I want you to leave immediately and take a carriage to the Fatih police station or the courthouse. Find me or Chief Omar.”
Avi smiled broadly. “Yes, bey. Don’t worry.”
“It’ll be for no more than a few days. For the time being, I think you should spend the nights at my house. It’s more convenient than Feride Hanoum’s. I can bring you here in the morning. So once Amida is in his house for the evening or if you’re feeling at all tired, come back to Beshiktash, and Karanfil will make you a good meal.”
They walked to the stable at the corner of the main boulevard. While the stable hand retrieved his phaeton, Kamil had a whispered conversation with the owner, a fat man in a stained leather apron. Kamil indicated Avi over his shoulder. The owner leered, but nodded in agreement. Money changed hands.
Kamil took Avi aside. “I’ve arranged for you to have a carriage and a horse whenever you want.” He gave him a small sack of coins. “And this is to buy food and whatever else you need.”
Avi tried to give it back. “I don’t need that, bey. I’ll be fine.”
Kamil pressed it into his hand. “Think of this as a job, Avi. You’re a working man now.”
“Thank you, bey.” Avi proudly secreted the coins under his sweater. “I won’t use many, I promise.”
Bemused and grateful for the distraction of the boy’s company, Kamil shook his head. “Use as many as you need.”
Kamil climbed into the phaeton and steered it through a jostling hive of pedestrians, overloaded porters, carriages, and carts. He tried to push all thoughts of Balkis’s revelations firmly from his mind. He told himself that there was no proof that any of it was true. His father would never have betrayed his mother. But what did he really know about his father’s life?
A memory ambushed him. He was a young boy and he was telling his father something important-he couldn’t remember what. In midsentence, his father had turned away to attend to an aide and then, without another word to his son, had left the room. Kamil felt again the piercing disappointment that had overwhelmed him at the time, mixed with anger at his father’s suicide the year before. Had his father walked away from his mother too?
He reached into his pocket for his watch and checked the time. His hand brushed the letter, but he didn’t take it out. For some reason, the thought of reading it caused him great anxiety. He remembered the shocked look on Saba’s face; he felt unprepared for any further revelations.
As he approached the suburb of Nishantashou, the streets opened up and allowed the horse to move more quickly. Finally, holding the reins in one hand and allowing the horse its head on the mostly empty street, he took Malik’s letter from his jacket pocket. He held it for a long time before unfolding it, then pulled the phaeton over and read it. After his stomach settled, he read it a second time with greater attention. The letter verified what Balkis had said. It also appeared to contain advice for Saba on her duties as priestess, including an odd prayer. He scanned it for clues to the whereabouts of the Proof of God. Surely, Malik would have left instructions for Saba to find it? But if they were in the letter, they were too obscure for Kamil to understand. A second piece of paper enclosed with the letter had dropped onto the seat. On it, Saba had drawn a map of the basement of the Ottoman Tobacco Works.
Feride ran to meet him in the corridor, more animated than he had seen her in a long time. She kissed him on both cheeks and drew him in by the hand.
“Oh, I love having Elif here, Kamil. It’s like having a sister.”
Kamil found himself scanning the hall for Elif and was disappointed when she didn’t appear.
“Let me go get her,” Feride suggested eagerly.
Kamil pulled his mind back to the reason he was there. “Feride, can we talk privately for a few minutes?” He hoped his distressing news wouldn’t throw her back into a black mood.
Feride stopped, alarmed by his tone. “Has something happened?”
“Not exactly.”
She led him into the parlor and sat apprehensively on the sofa. Kamil closed the door and moved a chair so he could sit opposite her.