Makdil eased his six-feet-plus frame through the door, tying a bright blue sash around his waist. ‘What is wrong, woman?’ he demanded gruffly. When Gathbiyya mutely pointed along the narrow lane, he followed her finger and gasped when he saw the rapidly retreating figures of Ammar and Khalid.
‘You should follow them, my husband. Discover where they go. Perhaps we may yet unearth the truth about them!’
The thought of following the pair filled Makdil with grave misgivings. If there were some connection between them and the Seer then she would almost certainly be aware that he followed them. He was, however, unwilling to display cowardice before his family, so he stepped back into the house, returning with his scimitar tucked into his sash, and hurried off after Ammar and Khalid.
The last thing he heard was Gathbiyya warning him to be careful.
* * *
Ammar, I await your presence with growing impatience!
‘We must hurry,’ Ammar said, breaking into a loping run as the voice invaded his thoughts once more. ‘Cassandra, the Great Visionary grows impatient. It would be imprudent to displease her.’
Sweating heavily and breathing hard, Khalid fought valiantly against his increasing exhaustion to keep pace with his friend. ‘Indeed,’ he gasped, fearful of suffering a seizure of some kind should he exert himself any further, though he could see they had almost reached their destination. The gates of the Seraglio loomed imposing and uninviting a short distance ahead. ‘How shall we gain entry?’ he asked, so afraid of Cassandra that he would almost prefer death to facing her once more. ‘You cannot imagine for one moment that the Janissary will allow us admittance to the Seraglio?’
Ammar smiled as he halted his progress and turned to face Khalid. ‘Watch, old friend, it is not without good reason that you and I were personally chosen by the Great Visionary to be her Observers!’
‘You may have given yourself willingly to her, Ammar, but just remember that I did not! The very last thing I wanted was to be trapped by some sorceress’s curse!’
Ammar frowned and placed a hand on Khalid’s arm, squeezing tightly. ‘Hold your tongue, old friend. Have you forgotten that the Great Visionary can see and hear everything through us?’
Scowling, Khalid freed himself from Ammar’s vicelike grip. ‘I forget nothing, old friend! I am tired of being an unwilling servant to Cassandra. All I wish now is to die!’
* * *
She sits upon her throne, far below the Seraglio, watching the void above the brazier that warms her. She listens with amusement. She likes a strong willed man who is unafraid of speaking openly, one who is willing to fight for the freedom of death.
Death can only come to her servants should she choose to allow it.
Ammar is weak, too easily subjugated. He has no free will of his own and does only her bidding unquestioningly. Khalid is strong. He is frightened of her, but is willing to fight for his freedom. Both have served her well over the years.
She will reward them both.
Ammar will continue in his servitude; Khalid shall be granted the freedom he desires. But she will require a new Observer to replace him.
She sighs. The search must now continue for a new Custodian and a new Observer.
* * *
‘Oh Great Cassandra, we are at the gates of the Sultan’s Palace,’ whispered Ammar. ‘Grant me your powers so we might enter.’
I hear you, Ammar. My powers are yours.
* * *
Konstantin was alarmed at his brother’s descriptions of the events he had witnessed in the courtyard, though he had to admit he was not particularly saddened at the demise of Hafiz. ‘Are you certain he is dead, brother?’
Dušan nodded. ‘Quite certain. The blade must have punctured his heart. Should we not inform the Sultan?’
Having carefully considered all that Dušan had said, Konstantin shook his head. ‘I believe that to be a most unwise course of action, brother. The manner of events you describe would seem to indicate that Dion and Hafiz conspired together. But against whom? Certainly not the Sultan. Hafiz was completely loyal to Selim.’
‘Perhaps they conspired against you and me, Kon? Their mutual dislike for us is known well enough!’
Konstantin stared hard at his brother. ‘I think our friendship with the Sultan would have held Hafiz back. Perhaps that is why Dion killed him?’
‘So Dion alone is our enemy?’
Konstantin shook his head. ‘Oh no, brother, Dion Taine is not our enemy. We face a danger more insidious than any mere mortal.’
Dušan lowered his voice, almost afraid to utter the name that sprang to his mind. ‘You mean Cassandra?’
‘Indirectly.’ Konstantin sighed. ‘I believe Cassandra has at last reawakened the vengeful spirit of a long dead enemy from another lifetime – an enemy to you and me both, brother. You called me Constantine earlier, so I know you are almost with us once more, old friend. Perhaps one final nudge?’
Dušan frowned. ‘What are you babbling about, Kon?’
Konstantin smiled. ‘Does the name Diocletian mean anything to you?’
Dušan felt as though someone had clubbed him in the stomach, winding him, evicting every breath from his lungs at the mention of the old name. The name was not merely familiar, it was feared – feared by some dormant part of his conscious mind since before birth.
Images of a past life suddenly flooded his mind. He closed his eyes, but the images would not cease. He cried out in agony, but no sound escaped his lips. He knew who he was. He knew who Konstantin was. He knew who Dion Taine was. Oh yes, he knew the name Diocletian very well: his mortal enemy and Konstantin’s too. Konstantin was last known as Emperor Constantine the Great, and he had been Spiridon. After what had happened repeatedly in every previous existence, Diocletian had sworn vengeance upon them both. He would stop at nothing to fulfil his need for revenge. Even death could not stop him, and they were once again reborn. He would not stop until he had destroyed their souls. He would pursue them to the very ends of time.
As the raging torrent of images slowed and his pain ceased, Dušan understood why Selim must be told nothing of what was going on. He opened his eyes and glanced at Konstantin. ‘So it falls once more to us. We must perform the ritual to banish the evil spirit before it is too late. Once more an innocent must die so that the future might be saved.’
‘And if we should fail?’
Dušan glanced at his brother fearfully. ‘Apocalypse!’
Chapter Fifteen
Sibylla heard Dion enter the chambers they shared and would normally have rushed to embrace him after his long absence, but something stopped her.
Peering through the hanging beads that separated the living area from the bedchamber, she looked hard at Dion. Something was definitely not right. His once gentle face had taken on a menacing countenance, his movements stiff and jerky, as if he were not in control of his body. His movements seemed almost threatening when he looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time.
Sibylla moved quietly away from the doorway, her bare feet making no sound on the floor. She caught sight of herself in the small mirror mounted on the wall, and was shocked to see the terror reflected back in her brown eyes.
She was still extraordinarily beautiful and regarded every day as a blessing since she knew she should not have survived having had her tongue ripped out. She was quite short, wore her long black hair braided with sweet smelling flowers, and wore jewelled rings on each finger. Today her loose flowing cream pantaloons were clasped around her ankles with matching bejewelled straps, while her pale pink tunic was quite plain.
She thought back in time and realised she had not felt this frightened since Selim had given the order for her punishment at speaking out of turn about him. Selim the Drunkard was a cruel man. She knew it, and she believed Dion had grown to know it too.
But the Dion in the other room was a changed man. An expert at reading body language and facial expressions in others, Sibylla knew instinctively
that something had happened to him and that he was now evil personified.
He had not sought her opinion of his decision to seek out Cassandra, the Great Visionary Seer who supposedly lived in the catacombs beneath the Palace. It was unusual, for he trusted her judgement and consulted her often. He must have known there would be some danger, and that she would try to prevent him from descending into the ruins of old Byzantium. She knew of the rumours concerning Cassandra, but always dismissed them as hearsay. Perhaps she had misjudged those rumours.
Loyal though they were to Dion, Abbas and Jabir, believing him to be making a terrible mistake, betrayed his trust by informing Sibylla. She had arrived at Sayyid’s house too late, and could not make Najat understand why she was so upset.
She had returned to the chambers that she and Dion shared within the Palace to await his return, and as the weeks passed, she began to believe he must be dead. Selim had turned up one day merely to comment upon Dion’s absence, yet seemed totally unconcerned that something might actually have happened to him. Sibylla chose not to reveal where Dion had gone.
She had mourned for Dion, but now he was back – and she could tell that something worse than death had befallen him.
She ran to the bath chamber, where the two faithful eunuchs were preparing her bath, gesticulating wildly. Since losing her tongue, the pair had helped her to devise a unique signing language, which only the three of them understood fully. Though Dion had picked up a few words and phrases, Abbas and Jabir were her interpreters. They were her best friends.
‘Master Dion has returned?’ gasped Abbas, scarcely able to believe it. He was about to run to greet Dion, but Sibylla restrained him, signing some more.
Jabir nodded. He understood. He knew. It was what he had been most afraid of. ‘The master has been possessed. It is the price of seeking the help of the Great Visionary!’
Is there anything we can do? Sibylla signed.
Jabir shook his head. ‘Only the Great Visionary herself may lift one of her spells!’ Seeing the sudden gleam in Sibylla’s eyes, Jabir realised immediately that he had said the wrong thing. He instinctively sensed what Sibylla was intending, and shook his head in warning. ‘No, Sibylla. Please, you must not go to her.’
Sibylla smiled. Worry not. I shall be fine.
‘How can you be so sure?’ whispered Abbas. ‘You know the rumours… you have seen what has happened to Master Dion!’
A girl who cannot speak is no threat to Cassandra!
Jabir sighed. ‘I pray you know what you are doing.’
So do I, Sibylla thought fearfully.
* * *
Diocletian was a master of the Dark Arts, and with a little extra help from Cassandra, and using Dion Taine’s artistic skills, he knew precisely what he had to do. He had attained his immortality at a price, and now he was awake, released from the confines of Dion’s subconscious, he could live again – for the remainder of Dion Taine’s natural lifetime.
When this life was almost over, thanks to Cassandra’s help, he would merely shift his consciousness to the mind of another.
Through Diocletian’s immortality, Dion had unwillingly attained his own. His mind was still active, though completely subjugated to Diocletian’s superior will, and would never again have any control of his own body. It frustrated Diocletian that he was not able to purge the original spirit completely, but Cassandra had warned him that attempting to do so would cause the host body to die. Such was the price for his immortality. Leaping from one body to another would link the minds, giving Diocletian access to memories and skills not his own, but each time he joined with a new body the linked host would travel with him. Eventually, Cassandra warned, his resulting schizophrenia might send him mad… so he should achieve whatever it was he wanted to do and then let go of the mortal coil.
Cassandra’s price was a small one to pay to guarantee he could perpetually return to eradicate Constantine and Spiridon from existence, instead of waiting in the darkness for a natural rebirth, and now he had the knowledge to achieve his final goal.
Maybe the old woman was mistaken. Perhaps she had tried some kind of deception because she sensed if he returned often enough, gaining knowledge as he did so, he might become all-powerful. Throwing back his head, he howled with laughter. Oh yes, that was indeed her fear. She feared that one day, when the time was right, he would be Emperor again. However, not of a small, insignificant empire such as the Roman one he had once commanded, nor yet this equally insignificant Ottoman Empire. She feared he would be content with being Emperor of nothing less than the whole world, and if the all-powerful Seer feared that, then there must surely be some possibility of it happening.
Curse them! When he found them, he would dispose of the troublesome Constantine and Spiridon, and then he would tackle the Seer as well. Once rid of them all there would be nothing to prevent him from achieving his goal.
The last time he had faced Constantine and Spiridon, the feeble old body he was in had been too weak and gave up on him before he could attain the desired information to be rid of his nemeses. Now the Seer had given him the knowledge, and the artist had given him the talent to utilise that knowledge.
Once more, he threw back his head and howled with laughter. As he did so, he became aware of a presence standing behind him. He turned slowly, and gasped in horror. Falling to his knees, he cowered on the floor.
‘Oh Great Cassandra, I beg of you, please do not take away my freedom so soon after granting it.’
Standing just inside the beaded doorway, Sibylla frowned, and sighed in bewilderment. She wanted to know what was going on, but could ask nothing of Dion.
No! He looked like Dion Taine, but Sibylla knew it to be someone else within his body.
‘Oh Great Cassandra,’ whispered the cowering man. ‘I will do whatever it is you wish of me.’
Standing in the bedchamber on the other side of the beaded curtain, Jabir swiftly appraised the situation. For some reason, whoever hid within Dion’s body believed that Sibylla was the Seer. Perhaps there was some physical resemblance? Although he had assisted Sayyid in the rescue of the harbourmaster’s wife from Cassandra’s devilish clutches, Jabir never actually set eyes upon her, and so had no way of knowing for sure.
‘The Great Visionary tests your loyalty, Master,’ he said, coming to rest behind Sibylla and placing a calming hand upon her shoulder. ‘And she has seen you to be most worthy of your freedom, so now the time has come for her to return to her inner sanctum.’ He turned back to the bedchamber. ‘Come, Abbas,’ he called, ‘it is time to leave.’
Abbas joined them in the living quarters, and he and Jabir each gently took hold of Sibylla’s arms. They led her across to the closed door on the opposite side of the chamber, all three aware of Dion’s eyes boring into their backs as he followed them with a scrutinizing gaze.
‘Wait!’ Dion called as they reached the door. Jabir’s free hand hovered over the latch. They could hear him approaching and turned to face him, sensing he must have realised Sibylla was not Cassandra.
Dion reached out and took hold of Sibylla’s hand. They thought he was going to drag her away and tensed, prepared to fight, but relaxed as he planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand.
‘I thank you, Great Cassandra,’ Dion said as he released her hand.
Sibylla and the two eunuchs made good their escape, almost stumbling into Dušan in their haste. He called after them, but they did not pause. They ran until they rounded the corner of the corridor.
‘Whoever he is, he believes you to be Cassandra,’ gasped Jabir. ‘It is possible you look like her, and if you do, perhaps it is not so dangerous for you to see her as I feared.’
Will you show me the way to find her? Sibylla signed.
Jabir nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’ He led Sibylla on into yet another inner part of the Palace, and Abbas, not knowing what else to do, followed them.
* * *
Makdil watched from close by as Ammar cast his bewitchment over the
Janissary who guarded the Imperial Gates of the Seraglio. The guards stood to attention, immobile as they stared straight-ahead, allowing Ammar and Khalid to walk through the gates unopposed.
Moving with swiftness that he never knew he possessed, and praying desperately that the guards would not awaken from their induced hypnotic sleep before he was through, Makdil sprinted for the gates. Then he too was past, unopposed, and he found himself within the walls of the Seraglio.
Well, I am in. Now I must remain undetected.
Getting out of the Palace once more, he thought as he followed the two old men with ease, would be far more difficult than getting in. He was so close he felt sure they must be able to hear him, but both appeared completely unaware that he trailed behind them.
The old men walked through the passages and chambers of the Palace completely unopposed. Every time a Janissary guard appeared, Abbas would wave his hands and utter some indistinct words, and the guards would stand to attention, staring sightlessly ahead.
Makdil slipped past the guards each time, but when the old men rounded a corner, he followed them – only to find they had disappeared completely. There were no doors visible in the long passage, nowhere they could have gone and nowhere that they might be hiding.
Makdil stood in the centre of the corridor, glancing all around. He decided there must be a secret doorway hidden somewhere, perhaps behind one of the numerous tapestries that adorned the walls? As he stood there, he suddenly became aware of how exposed he was. If caught, an intruder within the Seraglio would almost certainly be executed. He was about to start searching for a hidden door when two beautiful young men and an exquisite girl came round the corner, halting in their tracks at the sight of him.
‘Who are you?’ demanded Jabir, tensing slightly. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was following two old men who are rumoured to be associated with the Great Visionary,’ Makdil gabbled, deciding the truth would be his ally. ‘They bewitched the guards at the Palace gates and came down here, but they have disappeared.’
Portrait of Shade Page 19
