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“Full name, with all your titles.”
Here it was. He found himself edging closer to Kadou’s side, groping for his hand. Kadou’s fingers found his and he gripped them tight. His life hung on the words they’d just murmured to each other in the corner, and the ones that he was about to speak. “Damat Evemer Hoskadem Bey Effendi,” he said. Best to drop theMahisti-esand thePrince of Arastunless he was pressed. “Duke-Consort of Altinbasi-ili, Lord-Consort of Sirya and Nadirintepe, and Warden-Consort of the Northern Marches.” Entirely without meaning to, he felt his shoulders straighten, his chin rise.
Kahyalar—the best ones, the smartest and cleverest ones—sometimes ended up titled through positions gained in the civil service. It had been an entirely reasonable possibility to imagine that he might one day be elevated to those heights—a minister or provincial governor, perhaps—but he hadn’t thought for a moment that it would come before he was seventy. Andthisaltitude was beyond any expectations.
The satyota turned back. “Yeah, anything else?”
“That wastrue?” said Siranos.
She shrugged. “As far as I can tell.”
“What!” Azuta cried. “Listen again, use all your powers!”
“Ugh! I keep telling you people it’s not sorcery, but do youeverfucking listen? No, it’s justTenzin, Tenzin!” The satyota’s voice took on a mock-whine. “All hours of the day:Tenzin, Tenzin, come interrogate the prisoner! Tenzin, are you busy? Tenzin, wake up, it’s dawn and I can’t possibly wait! Tenzin, why are you in the bath? Get out, I need you!Am I done here? Anything else you want to know about them? Their earliest childhood memories? Their sexual fetishes? Maybe what they ate for breakfast this morning?”
“No, Tenzin,” Siranos said through his teeth. “We’re terribly sorry for disturbing you.”
She scoffed. “Of course you are. Do you want the bill for this separate or added to your total?”
Azuta tilted her head. “You don’t have her on retainer?”
“I don’t do retainers,” Tenzin said sharply at the same moment that Sylvia and Siranos said, “She doesn’t do retainers,” though more annoyed and exhausted, as if it were an argument that they had lost several times and were now leery of entering into again.
“The amount they nag me as it is?” Tenzin said, crossing her arms. “Absolutely not.” She snapped her fingers at Siranos. “Separate bill or running total?”
“Separate bill,” he gritted out. “Thank you. Good night.”
“Yeah,” she said flatly, and left the room.
“Gods, I hate her,” snarled Siranos, and then whirled on Evemer. “Damat?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Who the fuckareyou? No, better question—who the fuck are youmarried to?”
Evemer stared at him coolly. “Someone very powerful, who would go great lengths to see me in one piece.” He squeezed Kadou’s hand, and Kadou squeezed back.
“Did you want to bring the satyota back for that?” Kadou asked; Siranos stopped and looked at him. His eyes dropped to their joined hands.
Sylvia sighed. “You Arasti and your labyrinthine titles. I still don’t know what all those words meant. You know, we got rid ofourkings about two thousand years ago; you people really ought to do the same. Makes everything a lot simpler and clearer.” She leaned over on the divan and plucked a half-full glass of wine off the side table. She drank deep, looking around with an expectant expression. “Well? Anyone? What’s a damat-blah-blah-blah-bey-whatever? Siranos? Did you manage to learnthat,at least, during your little vacation in the palace?”
“Damat bey effendi,” said Siranos slowly, “is a title given to the husband of a member of the royal family. All of the titles he gave us are honoraries.”
“And you don’t know who the . . .” Sylvia waved vaguely. “Who the primary holder is?”
Siranos looked between him and Kadou, calculating. “Seems like it would be this one, wouldn’t it?”
“We would have heard if the prince were married, wouldn’t we? Someone would have told us.”
“Well,Idon’t fucking know,” Siranos snapped, turning to her. “But apparently so! Zeliha must have some reason for keeping it under tight wraps, or there would have been announcements and—and stupid parades about it!”
“Secret police,” Kadou said mildly. “It’s right there in the name.”
Sylvia put a hand to her forehead and sighed. “Such a headache. Someone take them away and lock them up. And Siranos, by the goddess of mercy,calm down.”
They were taken away to what seemed to have once been a wine cellar. Beneath the musty smell of the underground, there was an oversweet, rancid tang in the air, as of long-ago smashed bottles whose contents had soaked into the stones and mortar. The cold of the cellar was the sort that crept up and sank into one’s bones, rather than biting at one’s skin as the wind off the sea did.
The guards did not deign to leave them a lamp. They shut and locked the door behind them, and once more Kadou and Evemer were alone in the dark, the only faint light coming from the crack under the door.
