Read The Necromancer's Grimoire Online
Authors: Annmarie Banks
Kemal rolled up his letter and tucked it back inside the box. “It would be impudent to question you,Â
Hanim
, as well as to answer you.”
She closed her eyes to search for the answer within his heart. She felt around inside him with a silver tendril. She felt his courage, his sharp intelligence and fierce loyalty. She pushed them aside.Â
Who has sent him, and why?
 She demanded the answer. A great presence filled her mind. It grew stronger and stronger like the billowing clouds before a great storm. The presence was not Kemaleddin,Â
reis
 of the sultan's fleet. Nor the Padishah, Bayezid, known as âThe Just'. Someone else. She heard the sharp snap of a clap and opened her eyes to see Kemal Reis with his hands together.
“No!” Do not conjure him here to my ship!”
Kemal was alarmed, his dark eyes wide and flashing a warning. “Do not summon him!” he repeated with another emphatic clap. “Look at me, not at him.” She blinked herself away from those storm clouds and withdrew the tendril.
“Who?” She whispered to him. “Who could frighten such a brave man? The man who can pilot a ship through the treacherous currents of the Dardanelles even at night, who is beloved by the greatest sultan in the world, and is admired by every man who serves under him? A man who fears a small woman, though she be confined in a tiny chamber surrounded by the finest janissaries of Constantinople?”
“Istanbul,Â
Hanim
,”
Nadira smiled at him. His chest rose and fell in a cadence that told her how troubled he was. She gave him a soft sigh and tilted her head. “There is another you fear, then. One who has told the sultan that I am coming and must be captured and silenced.”
Kemal nodded, his face tight with control. “I am to bring you to the palace unharmed. I come to see that you are safe and comfortable, and to confirm that you are, indeed, the daughter of Ahmed Bey, a princess of Morocco, and cousin to the Sultan.” His dark eyes told her there was more. Somehow he knew of her abilities.
Nadira blinked at him. “I am.”
“Good. I know I cannot tie your mind,Â
Hanim
, but I can help my men keep their honor and their positions.” He lifted a handkerchief he pulled from within his robes. “You will not be able to order them to release you from this chamber if I bind your mouth and hands. Promise me that you will stay here and you will not be silenced.” She sent another tendril to his chest and was pleased to see him wince as it entered his body. “I cannot stop that, either.” He put his hand over his heart and dug at his chest with his fingers. “But I do not fear the truth. You can see my heart is open.”
She could. He was true. “I promise,” she said. “It makes no sense to escape from a tiny room unless I plan to leap from the deck into the sea. And you have my men. I will not leave without them. They think you are a pirate.”
Kemal shook his head. “I am no pirate. My men are not slaves, but a well-trained and proud crew. Most of the men at the oars have no chains upon them, but row willingly for their sultan and the honor of his fleet.”
“And your prisoners?” she prompted.
“Yes, there are some prisoners below. As I said, my orders are to bring you in. Your bodyguards are of no account.”
“They are of some considerable account to me,” she began.
“And you see that they breathe,Â
Hanim
,” he insisted. “I have spared them. I could have left them on the prize under the control of my second. I could have but nodded my head and sent thick bolts through their hearts. But I have brought them on my ship so they may travel with you. The sultan is not your enemy.”
Nadira sighed. “May I see them?”
“No.”
“How long to Istanbul?”
“Two days.”
She nodded, thinking.
“Be patient,Â
Hanim
, and do not make trouble. You will soon be in the presence of the great and just Bayezid, Sultan of Sultans. Such an honor is not to be fought against, but eagerly embraced.” He turned to leave her. His fingers continued to rub at his chest as he left the cabin.
Nadira paced about the small room for a while, and then leaned out of the portal. She felt the ship move up and down with the swells. Kemal's cabin was the width of the ship just under the small raised deck in the stern. She could clearly hear everything that was said above her by the helmsman and the navigator, though she did not understand Turkish. TheÂ
swish
 of the waves as they fell away from the stern was not so loud that it masked their voices or their footsteps. When the light was right, she could even see their shadows as they moved over her head.
She stopped pacing for a moment, listening. She heard the oars beat the water in rhythm. She heard the steady creak of the timbers as they strained against the force of the wind and sea.
“We were on our way to Constantinople, anyway,” she mused aloud.
“Istanbul,Â
Hanim
.” The voice came from above her at the helm.
She looked up between the planks over her head. “Yes. Istanbul, Kemaleddin Reis.”
Kemal was wrong about arriving before dark. Nadira was brought to the deck and reunited with the others long after dark on the second day. Her men were under heavy guard and held near the stern. She was able to give them an encouraging look before being ushered to the rail by three janissaries. The stars glittered above the city which was lit here and there with small fires and light from the many windows. It was too dark to see the city properly, but the pungent smell of smoke announced a large city with many inhabitants preparing many meals. The familiar harbor smells, as unpleasant as they were, reminded her of her childhood in Spain. The stale smells from the harbor were not a happy greeting as the
reis
's men anchored the ship offshore. She knew from her years in Barcelona that the next morning's sea breeze would wash away the stink and replace it with the fresh air of the sea.
Three smaller vessels rowed out to greet them and Nadira was tucked into the first with Kemal at her side, steadying the rocking boat as she sat carefully on the bottom planks. Her men entered the other two. She looked up at Kemal to remind him of his promise. He said nothing but put his hand over his heart. She leaned to look behind him and could recognize the dark silhouettes of Montrose and Alisdair being loaded into other boats for the short trip to shore.
Once on land her men were marched toward the harbor, while Kemal led her in the opposite direction up the hill to a great gate and through the walls of the city. She found that an ominous development. She knew she would have to be separated from Montrose temporarily, but she had assumed they would be in the same house.
“Where are you sending them?” she asked. But Kemal was too far ahead or pretended not to hear.
Her concerns grew as she followed the
reis
up the steep bluffs. They were met by three servants carrying torches to light the rest of their way to a fine wooden house, three levels high at the top of the hill. Lights glowed from the windows on the second floor. Kemal led her to an upstairs room lit with oil lamps suspended from fine chains, and two large candle holders. There was no furniture like there was in her master's house in Barcelona, but lustrous carpets covered the floor from the door to the narrow window which was filled with a wood screen. The scent of sandalwood and beeswax warmed the air within. She imagined Robert would not be given such a fine place to sleep.
Kemal did not follow her into the room. “It was not expected I would find you so quickly, the second day at sea,” he said. “Please forgive me for putting you here for now.”
Nadira opened her hands to him. “This is a lovely place to be a prisoner, Kemaleddin Reis.”
“An important
guest
,
Hanim
. Please.”
“And my men?” She imagined them perhaps being marched to the galleys or to a prison and tightened her fists.
“They will go to the barracks.”
“They will have food and drink?” He seemed sincere, but he might be lying to her. She felt a strange confusion of trust and suspicion. Barracks were better than prison.
He looked at her as if her doubt disturbed him. “Of course I will see them fed,
Hanim
. They will be well treated as long as they do not resist.” He took a step back as two servants entered the room with soft bedding and spread it out against the wall. The servants bowed to him as they left.
Nadira waited impatiently until they were gone before demanding, “Release them! They have friends in this city. They are not your enemies. They do not need to be retained.”
He answered slowly and carefully, as if he had anticipated her demand. “I do not have that power. All
frenki
foreigners must have permission to walk the streets of Istanbul. The vizier will send his assistants to interrogate them. If they carry the correct papers⦔
A wave of fury erupted from her. “Papers? You took them from our ship, how can they have their papers?” She tried to force herself to remain calm. Her fingers tingled with anger.
Kemal smiled, uncomfortable. “Then we have their papers. They will be questioned. It is the custom.”
Nadira burned with frustration. He had promised they would be safe. “Honored
guest, indeed!” she snapped. She could feel the uncertainty of their fate and her frustration felt like a pillar of fire inside her. “I will see your sultan's men, but I will tell them nothing.” She stood straighter to appear taller in her anger and pointed a finger at Kemal's nose. “If you want me to cooperate, you will see them freed tomorrow.” An uncontrolled fury seized her and threatened to explode from her body. She made a fist to contain her anger and flung her hand at the
reis
, aiming for a place between his eyes.
He staggered backwards, his hand to his forehead. He said something loudly in Turkish but she did not know what it was. She didn't care. With a deep breath she gathered another salvo, ready to slap him with it, but he held up both hands.
“
Hanim
!”
She stopped, breathing hard. “Say you will!”
“Peace.
Hanim-effendi
.” He knelt. “Peace,
Hanim
. Peace.”
Nadira took a step into the room and turned her back on Kemal, thinking. The men were unsettled in the barracks, uneasy and worried about her. None of her friends spoke Turkish or Arabic, though many of the janissaries spoke Latin or Italian. A few of the sultan's soldiers spoke French. Most spoke tribal languages from the mountains to the north. It would be difficult for them to hear news of her wellbeing. She pressed her hands to her eyes, but looked up when she heard footsteps approach.
Women returned with bowls and pitchers of water and cloth. They stopped, incredulous, when they encountered Kemal kneeling in the doorway. Their eyes darted quickly over the two of them. Nadira recognized their indecision, though her years as a servant seemed a lifetime ago. She spoke to Kemal in Arabic, “Tell them to come in and set it all down.”
He spoke to the women who stepped carefully past him on the floor to carry their burdens inside. One of them caught her eye as she laid some brightly colored silk on the bedding. Nadira nodded to her. No one moved until the women were gone. Kemal spoke to her as a hunter might calm his angry hawk, “I must convince you that all is well.”
“Speak until your words run out. I will not believe you until my men are released from their prison.”
Kemal stared at her with his dark eyes. “You say they are your bodyguards.”
“Yes.”
“Then if I release them they will come here to claim you. They will fight for you
and die. I cannot release them without assuring their deaths.”
She turned away and paced within the small room. Kemal waited patiently on the threshold. She let him see her annoyance as she passed him for a turn back to the window, then a turn again toward the door. He was right.
“Send them a note.”
“They can read?”
“My cleric⦔ She stopped when she saw his face. “You have separated them?”
He spread his hands. “The infidel priest cannot set foot inside the barracks. The captain of the janissaries forbids it. He hates priests.”
She balled her hands into fists. “He is not a priest,” she grumbled between clenched teeth. She could no longer feel any of her friends and knew it was because of this fury.
Quell it. Quell it. Disperse
â¦she imagined the hot anger cooling in mountain snowsâ¦she let it flow away from her, like small streams that join a larger brook. Kemal waited. She cursed him for his patience and a wall of emotion rose up and blinded her again. She opened her hands, shook the tension from them. Slowly, a warmth that was not anger filled her heart and she could see again.
Montrose put a hand to his chest. He could feel her touching him and assuring him that she was in no danger. She sighed and watched him as he mirrored her breath with his own sigh. His trust in her was complete. Corbett and Calvin, however, were wary and disturbed by this interruption to their mission. They were deep in a conversation entirely in French. DiMarco was not so perturbed. He had been in Istanbul before, she realized, and was confident that his fine clothing set him apart from the others and gave him an advantage. He was able to speak Greek to his jailors and to bargain for extra food and a clean blanket with some coins from his purse.
William, however, was nearly insensible with a cold terror. He was safe in a small dark room, but the soldiers outside the grating taunted him, they showed him their blades and shouted at him in a language he did not understand. Nadira sent a tendril of comfort to her friend, but it could not penetrate his chest. She felt it bounce back to her. William's wall of fear was solid.