And I Darken (The Conqueror's Saga 1)

His face open and at ease, Mehmed turned to Halil. “How do you advise me? Should I see them immediately or make them wait?”

Halil’s chest puffed like a tiny bird chirping its importance to the world. “I think it would be wise to see them right now, Sultan.”

“Very well. Send them in.”

Three men entered. They were dressed in vibrant yellows, blues, and greens, and wore red boots. Each layer of elaborately stitched and brocaded clothing was styled to reveal the layer beneath, a gaudy display of wealth. Clothing was expensive, a symbol of status. The Byzantines apparently made every effort to show as much of their clothing at one time as possible. Large hats like the sails of ships covered their heads, and each man held something in his hands.

Halil stood. “I present the sultan, the Shadow of God on Earth, the Glory of the Ottoman Empire, Mehmed the Second.”

The three men bowed respectfully, though they did not remove their hats. “We come on behalf of Constantine the Eleventh Dragaš Palaiologos, emperor of Byzantium, Caesar of Rome, bearing gifts and petitions.”

They were invited forward. The gift, sent to honor Mehmed’s ascension to the throne, was a jewel-encrusted book, colorfully illuminated with gold leaf accents. After admiring it, Mehmed passed the book to Radu.

As always, Radu felt a thrill opening a book. There had not been many in the castle at Tirgoviste, but the Ottoman Empire was so wealthy there were many books. This one, written in Latin, told the story of Saint George slaying the dragon.

Radu knew the story from his childhood. A holy knight, wandering through a heathen land, discovered a kingdom terrorized by a venomous dragon. The king’s daughter had been chosen by lottery to be that day’s sacrifice. Vowing to save her, Saint George fought and tamed the dragon. He led the princess and the dragon back to the city, holding the entire kingdom hostage under threat of death until all inhabitants agreed to convert to Christianity. His holy mission accomplished, Saint George finally slew the dragon.

The book was an illuminated, ancient story of a threat. Radu looked up at the envoy to find one member, a young man with clear gray eyes, watching him intently. The man blushed and looked away.

“An interesting choice of books,” Mehmed said, amusement dancing on his face.

Next, a letter from Constantine was read aloud, words as elaborate and ornate as the swirling borders of the book. Radu tried to pay attention, but there was so much circular praise he soon lost interest and let the sentences wash over him, lulling him half to sleep. It sounded like the church of his youth—in love with its own voice, cold and inaccessible.

Again he caught the gray-eyed young man staring at him. Radu did not know what it meant. Perhaps the young man was struggling to pay attention to the reading of the letter, too.

Then the name Orhan was spoken, jarring him out of the strange game of trading stares he had been playing.

Constantine had not waited long before reminding Mehmed of the threat of his pretender to the throne. Worse, he had the audacity to ask Mehmed to increase payments to Constantinople for the keeping of Orhan.

Mehmed steepled his fingers thoughtfully beneath his chin, waiting until the lead envoy member had finished reading. “My,” he said, as calmly as if he were commenting on the weather, “it would appear Orhan is an expensive guest.”

No one laughed. The tension in the room hung heavy, as though everyone had sucked in a breath and refused to relinquish the air. The envoys were pale. The youngest no longer looked anywhere but a fixed point on the wall. Though their faces were brave, sweat beaded beneath their hats, betraying their nerves at coming to the new sultan with such a demand.

Mehmed turned to Halil. “You have more experience with Byzantium than I do. Does this seem fair?”

Halil raised a trembling hand to dab at his brow. “Yes.” He nodded to himself, as though encouraging his voice to be firmer. “Yes, I think the terms are quite reasonable. If I were to advise your grace, I would say we should agree to the demands. It is better to keep Orhan where he is, and to give Constantinople a show of good faith.”

Mehmed turned back to the envoy. “Very well. Halil, my esteemed vizier, will see that you are taken care of tonight. Tomorrow we send you home with news for our ally, Constantine, and a renewed era of goodwill between our great empires.”

The envoy’s bows were less formal this time, their movements fast and deep with relief. The gray-eyed young man caught Radu’s gaze one last time. A quick smile like a secret fluttered over his lips. Radu felt a matching flutter somewhere inside. Then Halil escorted them out, followed by his main advisors.

Radu shook his head to clear it. He was still out of sorts from spending time in the country. And this was a big, interesting development.

Mehmed dismissed most of the other men. He kept Radu, Kumal, Ilyas, the leader of the Edirne spahis, and Kazanci Dogan behind. Under Radu’s advice, Mehmed had decided to spare Kazanci Dogan for the time being. They knew he could be bought, and they needed every ally they could secure.

Leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms overhead, Mehmed yawned. “My friends,” he said, “I would like to discuss our navy.”

“What navy?” Radu asked.

“Precisely.” Mehmed’s smile was a predatory fish slicing through the water. “Bring me reports on the ships we have, and, more important, the ships we do not have. And do it in secret.”

The men were wise enough to keep their curiosity modestly clothed with their expressions.

Mehmed dismissed them, gesturing for Lada’s soldier to wait outside the door. As soon as they were alone, the portent of bad news Radu had seen when he entered the room reappeared on Mehmed’s face.

“What is it?” Radu fought growing dread. “Are you upset with me? I am sorry I did not give you more warning of my marriage. I scarcely know how it all came about so quickly. But Nazira is—”

“No, no. It is nothing to do with that. I am happy for you.” Mehmed paced, distracted, his words lacking any weight. “She is lovely and a good match. And you will still be here.” He stopped and looked up. A hint of fear mingled with the trouble behind his eyes. “You will still be here.”