" 'Tis nae the young men who frighten me, Both-well."

Standing up, he grinned rakishly at her. "Yer a fetching sight, madame, with yer pretty tits pointing at me like that. Would that we had some time. This bed looks comfortable."

"Never here," she answered him vehemently. "I've spent too many unhappy hours here! I'd sooner be tumbled under a hedgerow!"

"Once we are safely away from here, madame, I will see if I can accommodate ye," he chuckled, and ducked a well-aimed pillow. Laughing, he ran from the kiosk.

Cat sprang from the bed. I am alive again, she thought triumphantly. Once more I have survived!

And she laughed aloud as she undid the bundle he had given her. She found women's underclothes, but the dark-blue pantaloons, white shirt, vest, sash, boots, and turban of a young man. Dressing quickly, she pinned her hair tightly and covered it with a bandanna before placing the little turban on her head. Pulling on the boots, she stood up and wrapped the sash about her waist. Catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror, she unwrapped the sash, removed her shirt, and bound her full breasts with a linen cloth. Then she dressed again, adding the embroidered vest over her shirt. Another look in the mirror brought a smile to her face. No one looking at the young man would suspect him of being the vizier's beautiful second wife!

She looked about the room a final time, but there was nothing she wanted to take with her. From her conversations with Esther Kira, Cat knew that whatever she needed for the long journey would be provided by the Kira family. She would take none of the jewelry given her by the vizier. On her right hand she wore the heart-shaped ruby that had been given her by Patrick Leslie, and the turquoise ring Esther Kira had given her to hold potions. On her left hand was the great emerald wedding band Francis had given her. She needed nothing else. She didn't even turn back for a last look as she went through the kiosk door.

She walked swiftly through the lovely gardens. It gave her a savage pleasure to think that the man who had used her body as he might have used a dumb animal would no longer enjoy his beautiful island. That would be her small revenge on Cicalazade Pasha. He would always associate the island with her, and he would quickly hate his pleasure palace with its hundred memories.

Suddenly she stumbled over a body in the center of the neat gravel path. It was Osman. She felt no regret. Stepping over it, she continued on her way, carefully descending to the quay where the boat waited.

Exactly one week later the vizier's caique arrived to take his wife back to the palace. There was no one waiting on the quay, and after several minutes the oar-master climbed the stone steps to the island's top. He found both the gardens and the kiosk empty. He called out for Osman, but his voice died in the clear morning air. It was frighteningly obvious that the island was deserted. Running back down the steps to the caique, the oarmaster shouted, "Back to the palace!"

The caique made a tight turn and glided back down the Bosporus the way it had come. The oarmaster did not even wait for his boat to dock, but leaped to the landing and ran at top speed to find Hammid.

Finding him with the lady Lateefa Sultan, the oarmaster flung himself to his knees and cried, "Disaster, Hammid! There is no one living or dead on the Island of a Thousand Flowers. It is deserted. I searched myself."

Lateefa Sultan watched as Hammid turned ashen. Momentarily her loyalties were torn between the eunuch who had been with her almost her entire life and the beautiful woman who was her cousin. She was genuinely sorry about Hammid's position, but she was relieved that Incili was gone. The immediate problem was Hammid. Cica Pasha was going to hold him responsible for Incili's loss, and his anger would be fierce.

"I will go to the island myself," said the eunuch. "You must be mistaken. There has to be someone there!"

"There is no one, I tell you," repeated the oarmaster. "I even called out. The island is deserted."

"Change the rowers," commanded the eunuch. "I am going."

Several hours later he returned and sought Lateefa Sultan. "The island is indeed empty. There are no signs of violence. No blood. No bodies. Nothing. It is as if they never existed. What am I to tell the master, my princess? He adores Incili. She was to bear his child. What can.I say to him? He will kill me." This last was said with a sad finality, and Lateefa felt so sorry for the eunuch that she was almost tempted to tell him the truth-almost, but not quite.

"Tell him the truth, Hammid. You obeyed his orders. You sent Osman and four others to the island as my lord Cica instructed. You sent supplies for seven days, and at the end of that time you sent the caique. There has been no report of trouble. Why should you suspect that anything was amiss? Is it your fault the island was deserted?"

"I must go back to the island tomorrow," said Hammid grimly. "There has to be something that will tell me what happened! I will find it!"

"Do what you think is best," answered Lateefa Sultan.

The following day Hammid returned to the Island of a Thousand Flowers. Knowing he would spend a restless night otherwise, he had gulped a strong sedative so he might sleep and be clearheaded for his task.

Slowly he ascended to the garden, eyes on the ground, carefully studying the gravel paths. There had been no rain to wash away any evidence such as blood for seven days. The Starlight Kiosk was silent. He opened the doors and stood for a moment observing the room. The huge bed was rumpled and unmade, the faint imprint of her head still on the pillow. He walked closer and saw that her sleeping garment lay where she had thrown it. Nothing else in the room was out of place. Her clothes and jewels were neatly stored in her chest. Nothing was missing.

There were no signs of force. Eight people were missing, and he had absolutely no idea where they were or how they had gone. But he was going to do his best to find out. It was all well and good for Lateefa to say that he must tell the truth to the vizier, but what truth? My lord vizier, your second wife has mysteriously disappeared and we know not how. Cicalazade Pasha was not going to accept that.

Outside again in the garden, he gazed out over the Bosporus. The sunlight dappled the blue waters, and then, suddenly, he saw it. Six dark patches were contrasted against the aquamarine of the sea. Hurrying as quickly as his bulk would allow, he returned to the quay and spoke in low tones with the oarmaster. The caique was rowed out a bit into the stream and one of the rowers, stripped of his clothes, dove deep into the Bosporus. He surfaced moments later and was pulled aboard.

"What is down there?" demanded Hammid.

The rower shivered. "Bodies, lord. Six bodies, all with their throats cut."

Hammid nodded. "Return to the palace," he said, sinking wearily to the cushions. Now he knew, or thought he knew, what had happened to Incili. The eunuchs had been taken by surprise and murdered. Incili had been carried off. But, remembering the neatness of the kiosk, he revised his theory.

Incili had escaped. But who had helped her? She was in a strange land, cloistered from the world, yet she had managed to find aid and escape. As he searched his mind he kept returning to one constant: Esther Kira. The venerable grande dame of the House of Kira was the only person from outside the palace who had known Incili. Yet why would the old woman risk her family to aid a captive?

He commanded the oarmaster to row him to the Yeni Serai. There he spoke with his friend and mentor the Aga Kislar. The aga agreed that the situation was a delicate one, but he disliked the friendship between his mistress, the Sultan Valide Safiye, and Esther Kira. The old woman was a virtual institution with the valides, having been an intimate to four of them. She seemed indestructible, but if she was involved in this scandal then this was his chance to be rid of her.

The aga gained the sultan's ear, telling him only what he felt he should know. "Cicalazade Pasha's second wife appears to have been stolen from the vizier's island," the aga said. "We believe that we know some of the people involved, but we need your permission to proceed further. Will you sign this order?"

Recalling the conversation with his vizier of just two weeks ago, Mohammed III gave the aga his permission, and affixed his tugra seal to the order giving Hammid and the aga carte blanche to pursue their investigations. Soon a troop of janizaries was dispatched to the Kira house in the Jewish ghetto. The two black eunuchs followed them in litters.

Eli Kira greeted the two men and led them into a salon, where they were served coffee, honey, and almond-paste cakes, and sticky red and green candies. The banker knew there was something wrong when these two men came calling with a troop of the sultan's elite.

He waited a discreet time, indulging in small talk. Then, looking to the aga, he asked, "Well, my lord aga, why do you come to my home so heavily guarded? Is something amiss? Is there some unrest within the city that I have not heard about?"

"The wife of Cicalazade Pasha was stolen off his island retreat, Eli Kira. What do you know of it?"

The banker's face remained impassive. Not a muscle twitched, nor did any expression ruffle his features. There is no way they can know anything, Eli Kira silently reminded himself. His dark eyes now widened in surprise. "Lateefa Sultan stolen?" he exclaimed, hoping his look was incredulous enough.

A faint smile touched the aga's lips. Hammid's suspicions were correct. The Kiras knew something. "Not Lateefa Sultan," he said patiently, "but the vizier's new second wife, the lady Incili."