houldsomehowtakechargeofthesituation,butjustthentherecameaknockatthedoor.Amomentofpanic.WasitHasan?Regardless,Iwaosavemyselffromthishellofwhimperingatwhatevercost.

    Itwasaroyalpage,summonihepalace.Iwasstunned.

    AsIexitedthecourtyard,Ifoundamud-coveredsilverontheground.WasIafraidtogotothepalace?Yes,butIwasalsohappytobeoutsideintheongthehorses,dogs,treesandpeople.IthoughtI’dbefriendthepageboylikethosehopelessdaydreamerswho,believingtheymightsweetentheworld’scrueltybeforefagtheexecutiotemptalightheartedversationwiththedungeonguardaboutthisandthat,thebeautiesoflife,theducksafloatonthepond,orthestrangenessofacloudinthesky;butalashedisappointedme,provingarathermorose,pimply,tight-lippedyouth.AsIpassedtheHagiaSophia,notigwithawetheslendercypressesdelicatelystretgintothehazysky,itwasn’tthehorrorofdyingrightaftermarryingShekureafteralltheseyearsthatmademyhairstandonend.Itwastheinjusticeofdyingatthehandsofthepalacetorturerswithouthavingsharedonegoodsessionoflovemakingwithher.

    Wedidn’twalktowardtheterrifyingspiresoftheMiddleGate,beyondwhichthetorturersandthequick-handedexecutionerssawtotheirwork,buttowardthecarpentryshops.Asweheadedbetweenthegranaries,acatingitselfinthemudbetweenthelegsofachestnuthorsewithsteamingnostrilsturdidn’tlookatus:Thecatreoccupiedwithitsownfilth,muchaswewere.

    Behindthegrawofigures,whoserankandaffiliationIcoulderminefromtheirgreenandpurpleuniforms,relievedthepageboy,andlockedmeintothedarkroomofasmallhouse,whichIcouldtellwashesmelloffresh