Empire of Lies

62

Starhemberg didn’t look well.

The only images Kamal had seen of him were portraits that had been done before the siege, engravings and oil paintings that showed the count at the peak of his glory. The siege had taken a heavy toll on the forty-six-year-old count. He had been wounded in battle early on and was, by now, also suffering from repeated bouts of dysentery. He was barely mobile and had to be carried to the walls to oversee the battles. Yet despite his condition and the scruffy wig he wore now that he wasn’t in the thick of battle, not to mention the battered jackboots that hadn’t seen polish for months, Starhemberg still possessed an air of unmistakable authority. He was an aristocrat and a military man through and through, and a mere battle injury or a life-threatening illness weren’t going to undermine his dignity or his stature.

Starhemberg nodded to the bearded man, who turned to his prisoners.

“Sit,” he ordered them.

Kamal and Nisreen each took a seat facing the large table.

Still standing, Starhemberg scrutinized them. He had the fierce gaze of a fighting man, and Kamal felt uncomfortable under it. He had read all about how brilliantly the count had defended the imperial capital, and he felt intimidated by him. He also felt unsettled by something else: the realization that he was sitting there, face-to-face with this brilliant general, all while knowing that, as things stood, the man would soon be dead. He would be captured when the city fell and put to the blade, and his head would be gifted to the sultan—all things he knew but couldn’t share aloud.

Starhemberg had been appointed by Charles of Lorraine to lead the defense of the city. He arrived in Vienna one day after the emperor and the rest of the city’s wealthy residents had fled and had only one week to shore up the city’s defenses and prepare for the Ottoman onslaught.

Once the siege began, his tactics were highly effective at frustrating the enemy and repelling them. Displaying great skill and leading counterattacks himself, he earned the full respect of those trapped there with him, but it was a losing battle. Weeks of relentless attacks had sapped their morale, and the overwhelming forces facing him, starvation, and dysentery had decimated his ranks. Out of an initial force of eleven thousand men, already outnumbered fifteen to one at the onset of the siege, only four thousand Austrian soldiers were still standing. Lesser men would have long since surrendered, but Starhemberg knew there was no point, not when the result would be certain death. Fighting it out and dying defending the city were far preferable to suffering the Ottomans’ infamously inventive ways of inflicting a long, slow death.

The count asked something of the bearded man, who turned to them and introduced his leader. Kamal and Nisreen both responded with courteous bows, and then Kamal asked him, “What about you? What is your name?”

The bearded man hesitated, then said, “My name is Georg Kolschitzky.”

Which somewhat surprised Kamal. “You’re not Austrian?”

“I’m Polish.”

Kamal felt puzzled. “But your Ottoman is flawless.”

“I spent many years in Constantinople. I was a translator for the Austrian Oriental Company. When they started making our lives miserable and I tired of being a guest at the sultan’s delightful jail, the charm wore off.”

Realization spread across Kamal’s face. “That’s how you’ve been able to get out and back safely. You can pass for one of them.”

Kolschitzky gave Kamal a faint, world-weary smile. “I can pass for many things. Especially a humble merchant from Belgrade plying his trade.”

The count grew impatient and interrupted them, prodding Kolschitzky along.

“I told his excellency what you told me,” he told them. Pointedly, he added, “The relevant parts.”

Nisreen asked, “So you do believe us?”

“I don’t think I have a choice. If what you say is true, we can’t afford to ignore it. We have to act on it to save them… and to save ourselves.” He made a nod at Starhemberg. “But the count wanted to see you for himself. He usually has good instincts in these matters.”

Kamal felt a surge of relief, daring to imagine that their plan might just work. He looked at the count, who began to speak. Judging by his tone, his words seemed ominous.

“His excellency says your arrival is auspicious. Until you showed up, we had given up hope of relief. We knew death was coming and were prepared to die here, in the knowledge that God is with us. You have changed this, which could be merciful—or savagely cruel. He wants you to know that if this does turn out to be a ruse, he will allow his men to do whatever they please to you both for as long as they please.”

Something about his words didn’t sit well with Kamal. “Wait, what does that mean? How do you intend to warn Sobieski?”

“We’re going to send out some couriers tonight.”

“What about us?”

“You stay here. If the city is saved, you will be fêted as heroes. If your words turn out to be lies, then you die here with us. Or before us, I should say.”

“No,” Kamal said. “We have to go, too. We need to warn them ourselves.”

This took Kolschitzky by surprise. The count also seemed curious about Kamal’s outburst and asked Kolschitzky something. A brief exchange followed, then the Pole turned to them.

“His excellency doesn’t see the need for you to be there when the message is delivered. He also thinks it would be unwise to allow it. He wants to keep you here in case this turns out to be a ruse.”

Kamal felt the walls of the room tightening around him. Staying in Vienna, even if the couriers made it through, meant Rasheed might not be killed. Which could make all their efforts pointless.

“We have to go,” he insisted. “Look, I can be useful beyond the warning. I know a lot about how Kara Mustafa and his commanders think, how the army operates. Even the smallest insight could prove invaluable, and there’s no way of telling beforehand what they might be.” He turned and addressed Starhemberg directly, even though he knew the count couldn’t understand him. “Excellency, I beseech you—let us accompany them. We could be useful should they encounter enemy troops. Let us see this through successfully, right to the end. And if all goes well, we’ll be back here to celebrate the city’s survival together.”

The count studied Kamal, then muttered something to Kolschitzky, who relayed Kamal’s words to him. He considered them for a moment, then gave the Pole his reply, never taking his eyes off their prisoner.

Kolschitzky told Kamal, “Very well. The count says you can go. But the lady stays.”

Kamal and Nisreen were simultaneously outraged. “What?”

“You can go. She stays.”

“No,” Nisreen insisted. “I’m not staying behind. You can’t separate us like that.”

“I’m afraid it’s not your choice,” Kolschitzky said.

Dueling thoughts were vying for attention inside Kamal’s mind. On the one hand, perhaps it was safer for her to stay behind. On the other, he didn’t want to leave her. Not when there was a real risk that the city would be captured and that horrors awaited her if she were there when it happened. Then again, there were horrors outside the walls, too.

But before that, a bigger worry swept in.

“There’s something else. You can’t send out several couriers,” he said. “That would be a mistake. What if even one of them gets captured? They’d soon know what his message was, they’d know that you know what they’re planning and would simply change their plans. Then you would lose any benefit of taking them by surprise.”

“But at least we’ll have saved King John and the others,” the count replied after Kolschitzky translated Kamal’s reasoning.

“Well, if you just want to do that, just send out one volunteer, a messenger who will let himself get captured,” Kamal countered, “he can tell them what we know and say there are many other couriers on their way to Stetteldorf, too. They won’t know he’s lying. They’ll assume the king will be warned and they’ll cancel the bombing. But then they’ll come up with something else, and you won’t know what that is. They might decide to just go ahead and blow up the Löbl and take the city.”

Kolschitzky and Starhemberg murmured as they debated his troubling words.

“Look,” Kamal interjected, “you have a historic opportunity here: to catch Kara Mustafa and his whole army with their pants down. You can deal them a massive, crippling blow and maybe wipe out that threat once and for all. But that means making the right move here, and the right move is sending one, and only one, committed and capable team to Stetteldorf.” He fixed Kolschitzky squarely. “And that’s you and me, sir. You know it as well as I do.”

Nisreen spun around to face him, mouth agape. “What? You’d go without me?”

“Nisreen, please,” he told her. “It’ll be dangerous out there. And we’ll move faster. Two are less likely to be spotted than three.”

She was speechless—but Kolschitzky stepped in before she could voice her disagreement further.

“We’d be gambling a lot on our success,” he said before translating for the count.

“Yes, but if it works,” Kamal replied, “the Ottomans will probably never threaten Vienna again.”

“I’m not staying behind,” Nisreen insisted.

Kamal turned to her but didn’t reply, preferring to remain focused on the two men and their deliberations.

“It’s going to be dark soon. And whatever we decide has to happen tonight,” Kolschitzky finally said. He nodded to his men and mouthed a brief order. They stepped up to Kamal and Nisreen and put their hands on their shoulders, ready to usher them out. “I’ll let you know.”

Nisreen stormed ahead without looking back at Kamal.

They were locked back inside the same storeroom, still with their hands tied behind their backs. Only this time, they weren’t tied to each other. Which was what Kamal was counting on.

Nisreen was livid. “I can’t believe you’d go without me and leave me as a hostage to rot here alone,” she blurted. “What happened to us doing this together and you never leaving me behind?”

Kamal said nothing. He just looked at her with a half smile, a perverse side of him somewhat enjoying the sight.

Which made her even angrier. “You don’t have anything to say? And what’s with the weird look?”

He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “They outplayed us. I wasn’t counting on that. And if they send out several couriers and one of them is caught, everything falls apart. We can’t let that happen. We have to move before they do.” He lowered his voice right down to a whisper. “I’m not leaving you behind. We’re going to go find Sobieski together.”

“How?”

“You’re missing something.” He turned around and twisted his arms up so she could see them. “We’re not tied to each other anymore. We can read the incantation.”

It took her a split second to process it. “You want to jump?”

“Yes. One day. We go back one day. That’s all we need. We sneak out of this room, which shouldn’t be locked—it’s just an empty storeroom. Then we sneak out of the city and we find Sobieski, just like we originally planned. Kolschitzky and the rest of them wouldn’t even know we exist. They wouldn’t have met us yet.”

Nisreen’s eyes went wide, then relief washed over her. “When?”

“Right now.”