THE IMPALER'S WIFE

9

VLAD

Twenty-two Years Earlier

Summer 1442

Egrigöz, Western Anatolia

"Where are we?" Radu clung tight to Vlad's arm as he climbed out of the wagon.

Vlad inhaled the sweet-sharp scent of pine, the forest like a blanket over the hills. In the midst stood a towering stone fortress. For two weeks Vlad had charted their course. Tried to guess their location each time the guards let them out. Now he knew. And it burned like hot coals in his stomach. "Egrigöz fortress."

"Yürü!" A guard poked his pike into Vlad's back.

Vlad plodded forward with Radu, who clung to his sleeve, and followed the beak-nosed guard into the fortress.

Janissaries glowered at them, growled as they walked past. There were so many. Each wore a tall white hat that made them as tall as Goliath. Each wore a scimitar and dagger over a turquoise coat. Each was a master of close combat and archery. Vlad had seen their skill up close. Had watched their guard fell a deer with a single arrow from a great distance.

But not as far as the distance some of the janissaries had traveled from their homeland.

Not all their menacing faces were Turkish. Some appeared Romanian. Like the fair-haired janissary with a ruddy round face. He might be a product of the devshirme, the human tax levied by the Turks after capturing a Christian town, their burly farm boys the payment. Was the glaring ruddy-faced brute ripped from his family at seven-years-old, draped in a red-hooded robe, and sent to the Thracian city of Edirne to become an askeri warrior? Had he converted to Islam? What about the blonde-bearded janissary beside him? Would he be selected to be a solacchi, an expert archer responsible for guarding the sultan on his travels?

Vlad dropped his gaze to the floor when one snarled at him for staring too long.

The pointed end of the pike prodded them deeper into the fortress, across two stone courtyards, through three small chambers, and up a narrow staircase that ended at an iron-braced door.

"Gitin." The janissary shoved Vlad inside.

The door slammed behind them.

Radu buried his head under Vlad's arm as the metal bolt squealed shut.

"Not too bad." Vlad tussled Radu's hair before striding across the stone cell. "At least it's clean." He pushed the rough-hewn table under the narrow window and climbed up.

"What do you see?" asked Radu.

"Just the town."

The homes looked like toys from this height.

Vlad studied the smooth stone face of the tower. Escape would be impossible.

Radu tugged on Vlad's tunic. "I'm hungry."

"They'll feed us." Vlad jumped off the table. "They need us alive."

The door squeaked open. Two servants entered with a small tub of water, a square linen cloth, two wool blankets, and a sliver of soap.

Radu stepped forward, and the man pulled out a knife and hissed.

Vlad pulled Radu back. "Don't be stupid."

"I was only—"

"Shush."

They waited until the servants left, heard the bolt grind back into place.