Revelations

FIFTY-EIGHT

At Mersin, Ezio took his leave of the Turkish admiral. The sun sparkled on the sea.

“May Allah protect you, my friend,” said the seafarer.

“My thanks, Piri Reis.”

“I will await your return here. But I cannot stay forever.”

“I know.”

“Will you not take some of my men with you?”

“No-it is best that I travel alone.”

“Then at least allow me to arrange a horse for you. You will travel faster, and more safely.”

“I will be grateful for that.”

“You are a brave man, Ezio Auditore, and a worthy follower of the great Mentor, Altair.”

“You do me too much honor.” Ezio looked inland, his face set. “If I have not returned within two courses of the moon…”

Piri Reis nodded, gravely. “Go with whichever God guides you,” he said, as they shook hands in farewell.

The two-week voyage was followed by a further two-week trek north, first across the Taurus Mountains, then, after breaking his journey at Nigde, between the Taurus and the Melendiz ranges, on north again through the low brown hills to Derinkuyu, where Ezio knew Manuel Palaiologos’s rebel army was massing.

He broke his journey again in the grim little village of Nadarim, within sight of the city that was his goal. The foulness of the place contrasted with the beautiful countryside in which it was situated. Few people were about, as it was just before dawn, and the few who were eyed Ezio warily as he rode into the central square, which was flanked on one side by a church.

There was no sign of any military activity, and Ezio, after having stabled his horse, decided to scale the church’s bell tower, to get a better view of Derinkuyu itself.

He peered through the lightening sky with eagle eyes, scanning the low buildings that comprised the not-far-distant city, a few spires piercing its profile. But there was no obvious sign of any garrison there either.

But, as he knew, there could be a reason for that.

He descended again. The square was deserted, and Ezio was immediately on his guard. His intention had been to ride on, but now he wondered if it would be safe to retrieve his horse. His suspicions mounted as he spied a figure lurking in the shadows of the neglected church walls. He decided to approach.

As he did so, the figure spun round to face him, brandishing a dagger. It was a young woman. Tough, wiry, tanned. Almost feral.

“Not so close, adi herif!” she growled.

Ezio raised his hands. “Who are you calling a pig?” he asked, calmly. He saw doubt flicker in her eyes.

“Who are you? One of Manuel’s scum?”

“Easy, now. Tarik sent me.”

The girl hesitated, then lowered her blade. “Who are you?”

“Auditore, Ezio.”

She relaxed some more. “We had word from the young prince,” she said. “As we had news of Tarik’s end. A bad business, and just when he was so close. I am Dilara,” she added. “Tarik’s principal agent here. Why have they only sent you? Why not more? Did they not get my reports in Kostantiniyye?”

“I am enough.” Ezio looked around. “Where are your people?”

Dilara spat. “Captured by Byzantines over a week ago. I was dressed to look like a slave and managed to escape. But the others.. .” She trailed off, shaking her head. Then darted him a glance. “Are you a capable fighter?”

“I like to think so.”

“When you’ve made up your mind, come and find me. In the town, over there. I’ll be waiting by the west gate to the underground city.”

She flashed her teeth at him and whisked away, fast as a lizard.