‘Not at all. There is no more important man in the city. Think of the power you possess in these hands.’ He reached out and took hold of the fire-maker’s hand, smoothing his thumb over the pale palm, as if he expected to feel the secret to the man’s magic engraved there. His eyes snapped up, fixing Nikolaos’s gaze in a grip they couldn’t escape. ‘A toast to you.’

‘To me? Well then, if you like.’

‘The most brilliant man in Byzantium.’ They touched glasses and sipped their wine. Katāros peered over the rim of his glass. ‘And the most desirable.’

Nikolaos gave a nervous little snort. ‘You jest.’

‘Not at all. Genius has an enchantment all of its own.’

Nikolaos’s mouth half-opened, caught between responses, his eyes narrowed. Katāros calmly took away his glass and laid it with his own upon the floor. Then, without another word he slid closer, his silk robe moving easily across the couch, striking before any second thought could enter the fire-maker’s mind. He slipped his hand around his head, raking long nails through his hair, while the other foraged through the folds of the fire-maker’s robes, the tips of his fingers brushing a nipple as it slid down further and pulled him closer.

Nikolaos was ready to yield. Their mouths touched, Katāros tasted tired wine on his breath, scenting that indefinable maleness that he himself lacked. And excitement. The fire-maker reeked of it. Katāros felt nothing. He waited until the man’s tongue began to respond, to explore his mouth with increasing boldness, then he pulled away.

‘Lie back,’ he said, and slid off the couch onto his knees. Eyes wide, Nikolaos did as he was bid, watching as the eunuch gently uncovered him. Moments later he was gasping, staring down at the swaying curtain of black hair, clutching at the cheap cushions on his couch. Katāros listened to his sighs, listened to the fire-maker surrendering his inhibitions, let him have a few lingering moments of pleasure. Enough to whet his appetite. But when he felt his thighs tense and shake, he pulled back.

‘Don’t stop,’ Nikolaos whispered, voice trembling.

‘Your wife,’ Katāros murmured.

‘She won’t disturb us.’

‘I want more than this. There will be noise. I don’t want you to hold back.’ And before he could make any answer, Katāros covered him. ‘There’s an inn I know in the coppersmiths quarter. It’s on Bithynia Street, under the sign of the lion.’

‘I know Bithynia Street,’ said Nikolaos breathlessly.

‘The rooms are clean. The owner is discreet. We will have all night. Can you slip away?’

‘My wife will soon be asleep. She sleeps like the dead.’

‘Two hours then?’

‘One hour.’

Katāros flashed a smile. ‘So eager.’

It was arranged, and when they parted Nikolaos was too flustered to notice Katāros conceal the dark blue stole under his cloak.