Revelations

FORTY-NINE

Ezio regained Assassin headquarters, changed, and returned to Topkapi Sarayi with a heavy heart. The guards had clearly been given orders to let him pass, and he was ushered into a private antechamber, where, after a few minutes had passed, Suleiman came to meet him. The young prince seemed surprised to see him-and agitated.

Ezio forestalled the question in his eyes. “Tarik was no traitor, Suleiman. He, too, was tracking the Byzantines.”

“What?” Suleiman’s distress was evident. “So, did you-?”

Ezio nodded, gravely.

Suleiman sat down heavily. He looked ill. “God forgive me,” he said, quietly. “I should not have been so quick to judge.”

“Prince, he was loyal to your grandfather to the end; and through his efforts, we have the means to save your city.” Ezio briefly explained what he had found out, told him what he had learned from listening to the Janissaries, and showed him the map Tarik had given him.

“Ah, Tarik,” whispered Suleiman. “He should not have been so secretive, Ezio. What a terrible way to do a good thing.”

“The weapons have been taken to Cappadocia. We must act immediately. Can you get me there?”

Suleiman snapped out of his reverie. “What-? Get you there? Yes, of course. I will arrange a ship to take you to Mersin-you can travel inland from there.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of Prince Ahmet. Fortunately, he called out to Suleiman in an impatient voice before he arrived, so Ezio had time to withdraw to a corner of the room, where he would be less conspicuous.

Ahmet entered the room and wasted no time at all in coming to the point. “Suleiman, I have been set up and made to look like a traitor! Do you remember Tarik, the Janissary?”

“The man you quarreled with?”

Ahmet showed signs of getting seriously angry. “He has been murdered. It is no secret that he and I were at odds. Now the Janissaries will be quick to accuse me of the crime.”

“This is terrible news, Uncle.”

“It is indeed. When word of this reaches my father, he will banish me from the city!”

Suleiman could not suppress a nervous glance over his uncle’s shoulder at Ezio. Ahmet noticed this and spun round. His manner immediately became more reserved. “Ah. Forgive me, nephew. I was not aware that you had a guest.”

Suleiman hesitated, then said: “This is… Marcello. One of my European advisers in Kefe.”

Ezio bowed low. “Buona sera.”

Ahmet made an impatient gesture. “Marcello, my nephew and I have a private matter to discuss,” he said, sternly.

“Of course. Please excuse me.” Ezio bowed again, even lower, and backed his way to the door, exchanging a quick glance at Suleiman, who, he prayed, would get them out of this. Luckily, the young prince picked up his cue perfectly and said to Ezio in a clipped, official voice:

“You know your orders. As I’ve said, there will be a ship waiting for you when you are ready to leave.”

“Grazie, mio principe,” Ezio replied. He left the room then but lingered just outside it, wishing to hear how the conversation would end. What he heard did not convince him that he was out of the woods at all:

“We will track down the perpetrator of this crime, Uncle,” Suleiman was saying. “Have patience.”

Ezio mulled that over. Could matters be that dire? But he didn’t know Suleiman that well. And what was it Yusuf had warned about? Against meddling in Ottoman politics?

His mood was grim as he left the palace. There was one place he needed to be. One place where he could relax-as he badly needed to-and collect his thoughts.