The gateman withdrew his keys reluctantly. "Opening the gate is, as you say, the work of a moment," he allowed. "Forgetting what I have seen this night…whether such a thing is possible, I am far from certain."
"Perhaps," said Faysal, jingling coins in his hand, "these will help you to perform the impossible." Leaning from the saddle, he extended his hand.
The gateman reached expectantly towards the offered coins. Faysal raised his hand. "When the others are through the gate," he said. "Not before."
"The others?" wondered the gateman, his eyes growing wide. "I see no one here. Oh, already I am becoming so forgetful."
The oily fellow turned to his task and, in a few moments, the gate creaked open. A steep road led away from the wall, blue-white in the moonlight against the black of high-mounded banks. The gateway was narrow and low, forcing us to bend double in the saddle. Once beyond the wall and its banked-earth ramparts, the road swung towards the east. We rode west, however, and made our way more slowly across fields and grazing land, arriving back at camp as the last light of a setting moon traced the domes and spires of the city in lingering silver.
When daylight transmuted night's silver to morning's red gold, I would, I believed, at last hold the answer to the mystery of Nikos's betrayal.
Your business in Trebizond can wait," Theodore said bluntly. "The amir must not be moved."
"You said he would be able to travel."
"In a few days, perhaps," the physician allowed, "and even that is too soon. The amir has survived a most delicate procedure. Now he must rest if his wound is to heal properly. Given time, I have no doubt he will regain his former strength and well-being."
"Unfortunately, there is no time," I insisted. "Need is upon us; as you see, we must leave at once."
We spoke outside the tent as men broke camp and prepared to depart. Faysal stood nearby, a frown deepening on his brown face.
"Then I suggest you leave the amir with me. My house is large; I will care for him there. Never fear, I am well acquainted with the requirements of noblemen. When Lord Sadiq has recovered sufficiently, he can follow."
"Your offer is tempting as it is gracious," I replied. "However, we are hard pressed to continue our journey as best we may. The amir himself would agree-indeed, he would demand it if I did not."
"Then, it is my duty to tell you that the amir will not survive such a journey. If you persist, you will kill him."
Shouldering this grim responsibility, I replied, "We are grateful for your service." Motioning Faysal to join us, I said, "Faysal will reward you now. Go in peace."
The physician accepted his payment and said no more. He collected his tools, woke his slaves, and departed, his dire pronouncement hanging over me like a curse. Once he had gone, I commanded the rafiq to make ready the amir's riding sling, and by the time the rose-pink sun cleared the eastern ridge, we were well along the Trebizond road. Speed was our most reliable ally, I reckoned, for if we maintained the pace I had begun, we would reach Trebizond before news of the governor's death. Any messengers would be forced to go by the same road on which we journeyed; to do otherwise would take too long, and should anyone try to overtake us, we would certainly apprehend them long before they could come near. Not forgetting the last time I had travelled this same road, I kept scouts ranging far ahead to prevent us rushing into another ambush.
Though I bitterly regretted the urgency, I pressed ahead relentlessly, my cold heart fixed on Byzantium and the confrontation to come. Time and again, my hand strayed to the folded document beneath my robe. That square scrap of parchment, hastily scrawled in Honorius's hand, exposed the wicked heart of Nikos's treachery.
Upon our return to camp, I had immediately opened the packet and read out the letter contained within. That Honorius had written it, I had no doubt; I recognized both the hand and signature from the letter the eparch had received. Faysal, holding a torch near, watched the expression on my face as the dire truth came clear.
Lowering the document, I glanced at Faysal, eager in the torchlight. Even as I spoke the words, my mind was leaping ahead to what must be done to prevent the terrible act they described. "Nikos plans to murder the emperor," I said.
"For this they killed the governor?" he observed.
"And everyone else who came too near," I told him, and explained: "Honorius was taken prisoner because he found out about the plot and tried to warn the emperor. They kept him alive because they found his office useful to further their aims."
"It says this?" wondered Faysal, tapping the parchment with a finger.
"Oh, yes," I replied, "and much else besides." I passed the document to Faysal and held the torch while he read.
The letter, signed and sealed by the governor, provided damning evidence of Nikos's treachery-though even Honorius did not perceive the full extent of the plot. But I knew.
