“What if she refuses?”

“Convince her if she flees she’ll have a chance to save Soleiman.”

Hazel-Boy ran out, hearing the rustle of Honey’s attire behind him. On the horizon, the moon was high and the vast branches of the plane trees cast ominous shadows. The hoot of owls punctuated the silence. He climbed the path behind the watchtower, from where the guards had often seen him leave to take care of personal errands for the king. He must get to Rebekah before sunrise. He gazed up at the watchtower. Moonlight flooded one of the four arches.

Framed by the arch, a silhouette dangled in the breeze.

He squinted, trying to make sense of the sight. He did not need new troubles. He must hurry on. But he could not tear himself away from the black vision carved against the stars. He dashed up the stairs to the top of the tower.

He came to a halt at the landing on the peak. A dark hulk dangled from a rope tied to a hook from the ceiling. The neck twisted at a grotesque angle against a shoulder. Hazel-Boy moved closer and turned the body toward the full moon.

A shaft of light hit Gulf Lily’s face.

The loyal eunuch had preferred to take his life before his mistress was punished. It was not a secret that Moon Face, having borne bad news about the favorite, would lose her life.

Rebekah heard the banging on her door. She pressed her naked body to the rough wood, her palm cupping her heart. No one came to her this late anymore. Something had gone wrong. The wood cut into her back. She would not open. She would lock herself up, crouch by the kiln until the Ancient Zoroastrian came for her.

“Rebekah, open up!”

She squeezed her ear to the door. The urgent voice did not belong to men who wallowed in the bearing of evil news.

She unlocked the door.

Hazel-Boy stepped in, held her shoulders to steady her. “At dawn, the executioner will go to Gold Dust.”

Rebekah slipped down to the floor. Her cheeks were wet. When had she last cried? Not even when she was branded. There must have been other tears. When her doll had caught fire? When the kiln would not stop roaring? When Gold Dust’s bones moaned with hunger?

Hazel-Boy took into his arms the naked woman, his tutor of love. Her polished skin gleamed. The hair on her pubis and armpits glistened. Her brand radiated the pride of her youth. Nature had treated her well. She did not need any embellishments, other than the sprig of mint that had become part of her. At another time, in a bare room with a cold kiln, she had converted him into a man. Even castration could not rob him of the gift she granted him. “Honey will warn Gold Dust. She’ll wait in the Secret Passage. We have to find a way to get her out.”