Steampunk Omnibus: A Galvanic Century Collection (36 page)

"Small concessions can have large effects down the road," Safiyya said. "But who can say what the kidnappers believe?"

"It's late," Cemal said. "I've a long day of placating the French tomorrow, and I'd rather be present for the interrogation."

"May I attend as well?"

Cemal and Safiyya exchanged a glance.

"It would be safer if you stayed within the palace," Cemal said. "At least for now."

"I can handle--"

"I am well aware that you can handle yourself, brave one, but I cannot handle the thought of you endangering yourself needlessly," Cemal held Aldora by the forearms. "I need my wits about me when I deal with Bompard tomorrow. Please, stay in the palace."

"Very well," Aldora leaned against Cemal, her cheek against his chest. "But tell me everything he says upon your return."

"That I shall. Now go to bed."

"Yes, darling."

***

The next day found Aldora confined to her room.

Uğur, assigned to guard her door, was apologetic with what little English he spoke. "Many sorries. Cemal Bey say much intruders in palace. Keep
Khanum
safe in room."

"This is intolerable!" Aldora slapped the frame of the door. "I demand you let me out at once."

"
Üzgünüm
. Sorry. Sorry."

"Then I demand you fetch Safiyya immediately!"

His brow furrowed, and he spoke with hesitance. "
Birçok affeder
, many pardons, but
uşak
Safiyya is with the Bey."

Aldora slammed the door in the big man's face, fuming that Cemal would restrict her in such a fashion. It wasn't Uğur's fault, the guard was simply obeying his master, but she was not content to be locked away like some mewling child. That was one thing that Cemal would have to learn if she were to stay in Constantinople with him: Aldora Fiske was no helpless girl to be coddled and protected. She dressed hurriedly, angrily.

She marched over past her bed and threw open the shutters to the balcony and peered over the edge. It was a sheer drop down a jagged cliff to sharp rocks and the Bosporus below -- there was no way she could scale it, and even if she did she'd only end up in the strait's cold waters. She tilted her head, looking upwards, and saw that strong ivy wove up a trellis along the wall to the balcony above. She tied her boots' together by the laces and slung them around her neck, her bare toes having better purchase for climbing. Without further hesitation she pulled herself over and on to the trellis.

Inch by inch she ascended, the wooden lattice groaning under her slight weight, careful not to put too much pressure on any parts not supported by strong ivy, careful not to risk dizziness by looking into the churning waters below. In mere minutes she had reached the upper balcony, climbed over it, and discovered herself to be in what looked like a study. Row upon row of books filled shelves lining the walls alongside scroll-racks. A heavy smell of incense filled the air, faint smoke wafting from an extinguished stick sitting atop a writing desk near the door.

Aldora quickly donned her boots, then crept over to the door, only to find it secured by a large and antique looking ward lock.

She headed over to the desk, in search of a key. The drawers proved full of paper, ink stones, and calligraphy nibs, but her eyes were drawn to the letter secured by callipers on top of the desk. To her surprise, it was written in English.

Dear Gentlemen,

It is with great regret that I must inform you that my investigations have turned up evidence that the driving force behind the kidnapping of your countrymen is none other than a faction within my own Committee of Union and Progress. Misguided elements which no doubt seek to gain leverage over your activities within the Ottoman sphere have no doubt taken it upon themselves to hold your citizens for ransom. These tactics are not the agenda of the Young Turk movement, and we officially disavow such underhanded tactics.

I, Cemal Yavuzade Bey, offer both my sincere apologies and renew my dedication to ferreting out the subversive elements within the Committee for the good of Europe and Ottoman alike. The CUP cannot deny culpability in letting these rogue elements sully our good name, and it is vital for a young government to regain the good-will of its neighbours. On behalf of the Committee, I declare my willingness to consider any concessions you required in exchange for your continued good will, and only ask in return that, when the factions within the Ottoman government vie for control in the wake of this scandal, you remember it was Cemal Yavuzade Bey who displayed such willingness to work with foreign interests.

Your humble servant,

Cemal Bey

Aldora read the letter twice over, trying to glean its meaning. The obsequious tone didn't sound like the confident Cemal she knew... and a Young Turk faction was behind the kidnappings? He hadn't mentioned anything like this to her, and judging from the dryness of the ink it had to have been written at least a day prior.

This talk of concessions -- it seemed to fly in the face of Safiyya's own views of appeasement. Was this some baroque political manoeuvring on Cemal's part, or did he actually intend to surrender to the European powers the provinces they hungered for?

The only way she'd find the truth would be to ask him. Aldora carefully removed the note from his writing desk and slipped it into her breast pocket, before returning to the window.

Gingerly she climbed back down to her own balcony, then opened the hall door a crack.

Uğur regarded her sternly.

"Can I have something to eat?" she asked. "Some breakfast?"

"Oh," he grinned pleasantly. "Yes. I have something sent?"

"Can't you just escort me to the kitchens?"

"No no. Is danger. Prisoner in
zindan
but still danger of more." He turned to go. "You wait. I get platter for breaks-fast."

She reached out and tugged on his sleeve. "Hold on. What did you say? Prisoner? Zindin?"

"
Zindan
. It being... place for criminal? Down below? Under palace?"

"Do you mean a dungeon?" Aldora asked. "The intruder from last night is here? In the palace?"

Uğur nodded. "Yes. But no worry. Is lock up in
zindan
. No troubles."

The guard ambled off toward the kitchens, leaving Aldora alone with her thoughts. Cemal had outright lied to her, had told her the intruder had been delivered to the French embassy. Why? To protect her? To make her feel safe? She would have been but slightly offended at his duplicity, but in the light of the letter she'd taken from his study -- what did it all mean? There were too many missing pieces of the puzzle for her to glean a complete picture, but what she could make out did not paint Cemal in the best light.

What did she really know about him anyway?

Here she was, ready to throw her old life away, and why? Because of a few smoldering glances? A kind word? A handsome face? She was no blushing schoolgirl, ignorant of men and romance. She'd had lovers, more than proper to admit. She'd seen the world, seen other cultures beyond the confines of the city. A love-sick child was not who she was.

It was the promise of freedom which had called to her. While she appreciated Cemal's attention, Safiyya's words were what had seduced her. The story she told of an empire where women were free to marry or live single, one where they could raise children or have a career. She'd spent her life subverting the restrictions the English Way had placed upon her because of the fact that she had happened to have been born an upper class gentlewoman. The idea that, here, in Constantinople, she might not have to pretend was intensely alluring.

Answers. She needed answers. Cemal would return later, but she didn't have to wait until then.

***

Aldora stole off down the corridor opposite the way Uğur had gone, the sabre Safiyya had given her held in a reverse grip parallel to her arm. She'd been confined to the palace long enough to learn its corridors, and darted from shadow to shadow like a ghost, avoiding the gaze of guards and servants alike. A short jaunt took her to the palace's ground floor, and it didn't take much longer for her to find stairs heading into the depths below the palace.

Unlike the sumptuously appointed above-ground, the stairs leading to the zindan were starkly functional, with rough cut stone, slick with groundwater from the nearby strait. Aldora's footsteps echoed back up to her with every step, and an earthy musty smell filled her nostrils.

The basement was practically medieval in appearance, straw on the floor absorbing most of the salt-water that the walls were sweating. Two pitch torches provided illumination in the long corridor running to the back of the palace, and she counted six cells on each side.

She walked between them, peering into their empty chambers through bars in the heavy wooden doors. They had little appointment, being closer to oubliettes for the forgotten than any humane cell. It disturbed her that her Cemal should have such a thing in his cellar.

The last cell was occupied by a man bound with thick leather straps to a sturdy wooden chair, his head bowed, his chest and feet bare. He looked up blearily as she opened the door to his cell, and Aldora all but recoiled at the sight of the man's face -- bruised and beaten, almost unrecognisingly bloodied. His chest, too, showed the signs of torture, large darkening bruises and deeper red lash-marks. Aldora had killed men before, had beaten them in physical combat, but the sight of someone who had been abused, helpless, still managed to turn her stomach.

Barbaric.

"You poor wretch." She had intended to question him -- harshly -- but seeing what had been done to him just left her with a sense of unnerved pity. Was this the handiwork of the man she'd been enamoured of?

Moved by pity, she pulled over the cell's bucket of water and wrung out the sponge floating within, using it to clean the blood away from the man's eyes.

"Msss," he moaned.

She shushed him. "Rest now. You'll probably need it."

"Mish Fishke," he said.

She stopped, hand frozen. "You... you speak English?"

"'M English."

Aldora dropped the sponge.

He took a long breath. "Fah. Your father. Sent me."

"My... my father sent you?" Her face turned white in the torchlight.

"Sent me. Rescue you."

Aldora knelt before the man, tilting his head up, hand cupping some of the relatively clean water from the bucket to his lips. He drank greedily.

"Mr. Fiske sent me to recover you." His voice grew stronger, and he tried to focus on her face.

"Rescue me from what?"

"Went missing. Young girl -- Penelope said."

"Penelope?" Aldora said. "You've seen her? Is she alright?"

"She's fine," the man said.

Aldora began working at the straps binding the man. "What's your name?"

"Rowe. Thomas... Thomas Rowe."

Aldora offered him some more water. "What happened to Penelope, Mr. Rowe?"

"She... she'd left the bath before the kidnapping, and spent the day with her friend in Stamboul. In the evening she attempted to covertly return to the palace, only to find it locked tight."

"She could have just come to the door," Aldora said. "She was probably worried I'd be cross."

"Be grateful she did," Rowe said. "She overheard the guards discussing the kidnapping as if they'd been involved. When they discovered her, she fled."

"The guards?" Aldora asked. "Which guards?"

"Listen ca-carefully, Miss Fiske. Penelope returned to the Embassy with what she'd heard. Lowther questioned Cemal Bey, who reasoned some of his guards must have been involved, and declared he'd investigate--"

"Cemal told me none of this."

"Listen. This... the important part. Said that you yourself had been kidnapped."

Aldora stopped unstrapping the man. "But... that makes no sense!"

Rowe maintained steady eye contact with the woman. "That's when Sir Lowther telegrammed your father with the news."

"Unless," Aldora felt faint. "Unless Cemal himself is involved in the kidnapping."

The straps binding his arms undone, Rowe helped Aldora with the ones binding his legs. "I arrived in Istanbul and began trying to hunt you down, on your father's orders. Rumour directed me to an Englishwoman kept in Cemal Bey's palace, and I attempted an infiltration."

Aldora remained silent.

He exhaled and tried flexing his arms. "They caught me, beat me, and have been torturing me down here."

"I've got to get you out of here," she said.

"Back to the embassy."

Aldora helped the man to his feet. "Can you walk?"

He wavered. "I can manage. With difficulty."

Rowe leaned on Aldora while the two left his cell. Betrayal and confusion warred within the gentlewoman's mind, Rowe's account filling in a few of the missing pieces in the puzzle of Cemal's letter. She was so lost in thought that she didn't spot Safiyya sneaking up on the pair of them until the valet attacked.