"We will abandon this wretched pace soon enough," Vlastimir said as Melek's wrist was freed from its leather binding. "A merchant vessel waits for us at Trabzon. From there we sail to Constantinople. Cosimo himself has been awaiting your arrival."
"And Nazli?"
"She comes as well."
Vlastimir said it with little feeling.
"She has no particular value to us. But she has value to you, and that is sufficient."
He loosened the second restraint.
"We informed the caravan that unavoidable business detained the two of you. They accepted our explanation—and our money—with surprising ease."
He smiled faintly.
"Silence has always been inexpensive."
Melek rubbed feeling back into his hands.
"You needn't bind me further," he said quietly. "I will come."
"I believed you would."
Into the Wagon
The September air struck his face with startling freshness after the stale room. Steam drifted from the horses' nostrils. Behind them waited a canvas-covered wagon laden with sacks of grain, blankets, tools, and travel provisions. Nazli sat among them.
She looked up only briefly before lowering her eyes again. That hurt him more than the ropes had. As the wagon lurched into motion, Ayberk settled opposite him with an easy grin.
"Well," he laughed, "we have several days together. We might as well become friends."
Melek ignored the joke.
"There were four of you."
Ayberk nodded.
"Barış rode ahead two days ago. Cosimo will wish to prepare."
He glanced toward Nazli.
"We bring two surprises."
Only Kuzey seemed pleased by the conversation.
"I am Kuzey," he announced with obvious pride.
Ayberk chuckled.
"Kuzey is not a complicated man."
Kuzey laughed louder than anyone.
Outside the Mosque
The first day passed almost entirely in silence.
Only after nightfall, while resting outside the great mosque near Kelkit, did Melek finally manage to speak with Nazli beneath Kuzey's patient watch. "I no longer know what you think of me," Melek said softly. "I scarcely know myself."
Nazli studied him for a long while before answering. "That is precisely the problem."
She folded her hands.
"I knew a quiet church servant from Gyumri."
She looked toward the fading western sky. "Then strangers arrived telling me you are someone sought across kingdoms."
She shook her head.
"I cannot make those two men become one."
Her voice softened.
"But I have come to trust you."
She hesitated.
"Enough that I fear more for you than for myself."
Melek let out a slow breath.
"They have told me little more than they have told you."
He looked toward the road stretching west. "Part of me wishes to escape."
A pause.
"Another part wishes desperately to meet this Cosimo."
"Why?"
"I do not know."
He smiled sadly.
"Perhaps because some part of me believes he already knows me."
When she asked why he had insisted she remain with him, he answered honestly.
"I could not leave you to travel alone."
Then, after another silence:
"And I hoped..."
The words caught.
"I hoped we might remain together after reaching Pazarköy."
He reached for her hand, this time she did not withdraw it.
They watched the last light disappear beyond the mountains without speaking another word.
A Piece of Iron
The following morning the road narrowed along the Deresi valley. Fresh landslides scarred the hillsides. The first obstruction delayed them only briefly. The second brought the wagon to a complete halt.
While the others struggled with the fallen stone, Melek shifted among the cargo searching for a more comfortable place to rest.
His fingers brushed cold iron.
Long.
Heavy.
Sharpened by years of use. He eased it free without making a sound.
An old wagon spike.
He slipped it into his robe.
For the first time since his capture, he believed Providence had chosen a side.
The Hillside
Vlastimir handed Kuzey a small hatchet before turning to Ayberk.
"Take him."
He nodded toward Melek.
"Cut us a sapling stout enough to move the stone."
Then his eyes settled upon Melek.
"There is nowhere to run." His voice remained calm. "But disappoint me anyway, and it is the girl who pays."
Melek climbed behind Ayberk toward the stand of young pines.
The hillside was steep.
Loose stones slid beneath every step. Ayberk worked steadily, striking the trunk with practiced rhythm while Melek caught his breath nearby. The tree was nearly through.
Ayberk leaned against it.
Not enough. He resumed chopping.
Melek rose.
The spike disappeared beneath his sleeve.
One step.
Two.
Three.
He stood directly behind him.
The spike rose.
At that exact instant Ayberk stopped swinging and turned. For one suspended heartbeat neither man moved.
Ayberk saw everything.
His hand shot toward Melek's wrist.
The spike fell.
Missed.
Melek twisted violently away.
His footing vanished beneath him.
He reached for the nearest branch.
It snapped.
The hillside accepted him without mercy.
The Road Takes Its Due
Ayberk heard the impact before he saw it.
By the time he reached the bottom of the slope, Melek was already trying to pull the iron spike from his own chest.
It would not move. Blood welled steadily around the iron. Each breath grew shorter than the one before.
Ayberk dropped beside him.
"No..."
His voice had lost every trace of humor.
"Melek..."
The wounded man tried once more to free the spike.
His strength failed.
Above him the autumn sky stretched impossibly blue.
The pines swayed gently in the mountain wind.
Somewhere far away someone shouted.
Darkness gathered at the edges of his sight.
The last words he heard came from Ayberk, now calling uphill in sudden panic.
"Vlastimir!"
A pause.
"We have a problem."