Steampunk Omnibus: A Galvanic Century Collection (34 page)

"I will keep you all abreast of the progress of our investigation," Cemal said.

"Then Germany is satisfied," Von Bieberstein said. "For the time being."

Sir Lowther turned towards Aldora. "Oh, Miss Fiske. I am sorry you were exposed to this nasty business. I can arrange passage back to London immediately."

"I have no plans to leave Constantinople, Sir."

"I am afraid I must insist. Whatever the villain's nefarious plan is, the United Kingdom has been fortunate to have had its citizen escape it. Should you remain, the scoundrels will surely attempt to capture you again."

"I simply cannot depart, Sir Lowther. My ward is still out in the city, either on her own or captured by these men. I simply could not live with not doing all I could to recover her safely."

"This is highly irregular, Miss Fiske. It would be remiss of me to allow you to continue to endanger yourself."

"It is an irregular situation, and I am afraid I simply must insist." Aldora's tone remained as steady as her gaze, locked on to the Ambassador in a way which made it clear she would brook no argument.

The ambassador reddened, caught between two unacceptable choices.

Cemal held up a hand. "I may have a solution, Ambassador. What if Miss Fiske were to remain as a guest of my household, assisting in the investigation of this matter while continuing to search for her ward?"

"I would find it acceptable," Aldora said.

"I don't believe it entirely proper," Sir Lowther said. "Unmarried men and women should not cohabit, even in the short term. And Miss Fiske is a civilian--"

"A resourceful civilian, and one of the few witnesses to the kidnapper's assault," Cemal said.

"I am in favour of this course," Von Bieberstein said. "The conspirators may launch another attempt to take her and draw England into their plan."

"Are you seriously suggesting Miss Fiske be exposed to lure the villains into making another attempt at her capture?" Sir Lowther asked.

"She has not displayed any lack of bravery."

"She is a woman!"

"I'm willing to take the risk." Aldora shot a dirty look towards Sir Lowther. "Though I appreciate your concern."

"Unacceptable," the knight ground his teeth. "Your father shall hear of this."

Aldora's eyes narrowed.

He turned towards Cemal. "Surely, sir, you cannot permit the gentlewoman to put herself in harm's way?"

"I have found Miss Fiske to be a singularly capable woman," Cemal said. "In the new Ottoman Empire, women are trusted to make choices for themselves. She is an adult, and I will not -- cannot -- treat her like a child. If she so wishes to remain and seek her ward, then I will do whatever is within my power to ensure her safety while she does so. Not because she is a woman, but because she is a guest -- of my country, and of my household."

Aldora had slowly turned to regard the Turk as he spoke, her face colouring slightly. While others had displayed confidence in her capabilities in the past, none had advocated for her quite so publicly. The reputation she held as a force to be reckoned with in London was unofficial, usually cushioned in the socially mandated hemming and hawing about her womanhood.

Cemal praised her, not as an exceptional woman, but as an exceptional person. That mattered most of all.

"I cannot argue the point with you, and I certainly cannot with her," Sir Lowther said. "She is the daughter of a very important gentleman -- if you insist she stay over my objections, then I have no choice than to warn you that should she come to harm that the United Kingdom will not stand aside and give you the latitude of investigating."

"I understand, Sir Lowther."

"What you do not understand, my friend, is the lengths her father would go to should anything happen to her. My response will be through official channels. His will not."

Cemal glanced at the woman next to him and Aldora found she could not meet his gaze. "So be it, Ambassador."

***

Aldora and Cemal returned to the carriage awaiting them, the footman opening the door as they approached.

"I cannot abide that man." Aldora climbed into the carriage.

"Sir Lowther?" Cemal sat opposite her. "He is somewhat abrasive."

"I have known him for years," Aldora said. "Beginning when he served as Ambassador to Budapest and Tangier. I could not stand him then, and I cannot stand him now."

"Some in the Committee would share your view. The texts he's been publishing have been stirring up anti-Semitic sentiment among the Arab population."

"He's an instigator. Be careful, Cemal, or you will have the United Kingdom interfering in your business."

"If he will involve himself, he will. There's nothing I can do about it."

Aldora turned from the window as the carriage started moving. "Thank you for believing in me."

The Turkish gentleman clasped her hand in his own, and she felt her breath catch in her throat. "You should not thank me for having faith in you, Miss Fiske. You should trust that I respect you enough to acknowledge your capabilities."

"Cemal--" Aldora once again found speech difficult. "I cannot convey how much your faith means to me."

"Respect, real respect, should be so common in your life that it passes by unnoticed. I find it almost criminal the men of Europe do not recognise true strength. I meant it when I said that I would protect you, Miss Fiske, but not because I think you are in need of protection."

Her head swam. "Please. Call me Aldora."

***

Safiyya greeted the carriage when they arrived.

"The slain men carried no identification with them." She helped Aldora step down from the carriage, and then Cemal. "And the
hamam's
servants insist they were given no names. Police are circulating sketches of the dead men to try and find someone who recognises them."

"There is not much more to be done at the moment," Cemal said. "Safiyya, I want you to take Miss Fiske into Stamboul to look for her ward and this Kalil."

"I'm afraid all I really know of the boy is his name," Aldora said.

"No matter," Cemal said. "A young English girl on her own in Stamboul will not go unnoticed."

"Penelope does have a way of sticking out. Thank you, Cemal Bey."

"I will have a room made up for your return," Cemal said. "My private security is made up of men I with whom I served in the navy. They can be trusted."

"I feel safer already."

Cemal smiled. "Good luck with your search. Be safe, Aldora."

"I will. Thank you, Cemal."

The Turkish officer turned and strode into his palace, leaving the two women by the carriage.

Safiyya turned slowly to the English woman and grinned broadly. "You are utterly smitten."

"What? I am not!"

"No, you are. I do not intend to press a vein, but it is clear -- the way you look at him, the way you speak. You are absolutely enamoured of Cemal."

Aldora's stomach dropped. "You don't hate me, do you? I know he's special to you."

Safiyya laid a hand on the Englishwoman's arm. "You overestimate our relationship. We are not lovers. We are friends of the soul. He saved me -- gave me a life I never imagined I'd be able to live. He has my loyalty and my respect, but we are far too different for romance. Do not think I do not love Cemal. I do. But I love him as if he were an older brother."

Aldora nodded.

"You should be free to pursue a relationship with him. From what I have seen, you fit length to length, temperament to temperament. An exceptional match! And I know he likes you, too."

"The way I feel about Cemal... I haven't felt about anyone in a long time. But in a life here I would be giving up much... I don't know if I can turn my back on England. On my obligations."

Safiyya opened the carriage door. "It sounds to me like you're making more complications than there are. Cemal Bey changed my life for the better. I am sure if you gave him a chance he would do the same for you."

Aldora climbed in after her. She had a lot to think about.

***

Aldora and Safiyya spent hours fruitlessly searching the streets of Stamboul, looking for rumours of a young English girl with fire-red hair. None claimed to have seen her, and the few young boys named Kalil they ran across didn't know any Pennys, either. Aldora found herself moving through the foreign streets with a sense of heightened awareness, alert for any rough-looking men in dark outfits, on the look-out for potential ambushes. She knew another attack was imminent. She just didn't know when.

As the sky darkened the girls had little recourse but to return to Cemal's palace. Aldora tried to console herself with the notion that Penelope was a resourceful girl, used to spending weeks at a time alone in foreign cities, and well-acquainted with Constantinople. The girl would probably evade notice and pursuit better than Aldora herself would have been able to were their situations reversed.

Safiyya claimed a sudden but fierce headache upon returning, leaving Aldora to supper alone with Cemal. She did not complain.

With just the two of them dining, Cemal arranged for a smaller table to be brought out between them. A large loaf of round braided bread, sweet and rich to the palate, sat as centrepiece, and Aldora found herself served a plate of shredded lamb topped with tomato, cucumber, onion and a savoury white sauce. Thick frothy yogurt drinks were served in large glass mugs.

"No rakı?" She smiled demurely.

"If you'd rather--"

"No, I don't mind. The rakı was a bit strong for me. I'm afraid I'm not much a drinker."

"There's a reason it's called lion's milk." He reclined on his pillows, leg bent, arm propping up his head.

"Is it? That's very funny."

He gestured towards her mug with his own. "This is
aryan
. It's quite good."

Aldora took a sip, then nodded. "Very tasty."

"Some make the claim that it dates all the way back to ancient Persia."

Aldora nodded, her eyes flickering to the door, to the window, to her hands.

"You're worried about your ward," Cemal said. "Forgive the inanity of my small talk."

"No, no. It helps. Distracts me. I'm not very used to... to doing nothing when something needs to be done."

"You're a strong woman, Miss Fiske."

"Please, call me Aldora."

Cemal chuckled. "I will try to remember. The Ambassador made such a fuss over your family name. The Fiskes."

"The Fiskes. Yes. A name that follows wherever I go."

"You do not get along with your father, I take it?"

"We're very different people," Aldora said. It wasn't a matter she liked to dwell upon, let alone speak of.

"As I was with my own father, a prominent mullah. We did not always see eye to eye. While tolerant of failings in others, he was always strict with me. I do suppose he is to thank for the opportunity to join the Young Turks -- he was a Young Ottoman back in his own prime, and it was that connection that led the Turks to seek out my aid in the Rebellion."

"That was fortunate."

"I owe him much that I wish I did not."

Aldora picked at her plate. "My father. Lucian Calvin Fiske. Scion of one of the oldest noble houses in England. A popular saying goes that all you need to know of English gentry you can see in the eyes of a Fiske, and in a sense it's true. Father used to say we were what the other families aspired to be. I was raised to be the ideal others fell short of."

"That must have been a heavy burden to bear."

"Perhaps?" Aldora looked towards the balcony. "I knew no other way, growing up. Regiment. Discipline. The tyranny of tea-time. My brother used to say that if you cut a Fiske, we bleed Union Jack. We are not English, we are the English."

She trailed off. "He's dead now."

"Your brother?"

"I killed him." She rose and stepped away from the table, towards the balcony overlooking Constantinople's bay.

Cemal did not respond, just watching her move through the shadows.

"I killed my brother, the only one in my family whom I truly loved. We were all one another had, you understand, in the days of our youth. We had that bond, growing up Fiske. Raised to love queen and country, but most of all family, and he saw through it all long before I ever did. He saw the dark spots in our family portraits, the ones behind our parents' eyes. Even after they sent him away, after he went to study in Paris, we kept in touch. His correspondence allowed me to go on with the masquerade of being a gentlewoman while at home. And then I killed him."

Cemal rose, crossing the dining room to join her near the balcony. "Why?"

"Because he was sick," Aldora said. "Suffering an illness of the spirit. At first I thought it something he'd picked up in Paris, a disease of the mind. I won't lie, it's what I wanted to believe, somehow my poor sweet brother Grayson had been seduced by criminal anarchists into their twisted philosophies. After his death I realised he had let himself become cruel and callous because of our family, because of our parents."