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I put down my glass. “I wasn’t joking about running to Switzerland.”
He shrugged, nudging a pea around his plate. “Oh?”
“How about France? We could seek asylum there. Enemy of my enemy, you know.”
“Not France.” He flattened the pea beneath his knife. “I hate speaking French.”
“How do you feel about England?”
He ate the pea. “Indifferent.”
“Let’s go to England. If we survive. No,whenwe survive.”
“This might be my last supper.” His smile was fleeting. “Maybe they will make a painting out of it.The Last Supper of the Necromancersounds a bit ludicrous, don’t you think? Anyway, I doubt anyone will give a damn.”
I glared at him. “This isn’t funny.”
He was quiet for a long time. The clink of silverware on plates scratched at my nerves.
“Say something,” I said. “Please. Don’t be silent after?—”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
His confession startled me. “Me? Why?”
“I would rather die than let the Grandmaster hurt you.”
“Wendel…” I didn’t know what to say.
He flagged down the waiter. “Check, please?”
My stomach somersaulted. It was time. He paid for our dinner, with what might have been his last coins, then stood and pulled out my chair.
“You don’t have to come with me,” he said.
“No.” I gripped his arm. “Hell no.”
He pried my fingers from his arm. “Then let’s go.”
When Wendel walked from the restaurant, I followed at his heels. I was afraid that if I fell behind, he wouldn’t wait for me to catch up. Together we strode through the twisting nocturnal streets of Constantinople.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“The Galata Bridge.”
“Why?”
“To find a boat.”
The waters of the Bosporus glittered like a thousand silver coins beneath the moonrise. The spire of the Maiden’s Tower soared against the opposite bank. Not too far away, far too close, the Serpent’s Tower loomed.
I felt sick. I tasted acid creeping from my stomach.
Fishermen lined the Galata Bridge, casting their lures into the rippling of reflected lights. Wendel surveyed them before he shouted in Turkish. One of the fishermen stepped forward. Wendel dropped coins into the man’s hand. Gold coins, I noted,which seemed like a steep price to ferry us across to the Serpent’s Tower.
“His boat is ours,” Wendel said.
My eyes widened. “You bought the boat?”
