And I Darken (The Conquerors Saga #1) - Kiersten White Page 0,122

of each division and garrison. Mehmed nodded thoughtfully.

“And you owe allegiance to the sultan and none else?”

Kazanci Dogan’s voice slid out easily. “Yes.”

“But the sultan is not the commander. You are.”

“Yes.”

Mehmed nodded. “It is good that you are separate from the spahis and their endless politics. I value my Janissaries above all else. Tell me, then: What can I do to help you lead your men?”

Kazanci Dogan’s face turned shrewd. “We are tired, sir. The siege against Skanderberg was long and disheartening. Many of my men returned ill and have only recently regained their health. There is some concern that…” He paused, as though choosing his next words carefully. “…that when you take the throne, they might be thrown into another ill-advised, protracted siege.”

Mehmed tilted his head in surprise. “I have no desire to go against Skanderberg. That was my father’s quarrel, not mine.”

“Not Skanderberg.”

The intelligent confusion on Mehmed’s face almost made Radu smile. “Whom would I besiege? I already have an empire that needs attention, and I will need help and time learning how best to rule. I would depend on my Janissaries to be my hands in that. That is my only plan for their future.”

Kazanci Dogan made an uncommitted noise in the back of his throat.

“Tell me, do you think my father has run his empire well?” Mehmed smiled at the look of alarm on Kazanci Dogan’s face. “Come now. He is dying. It is not treason to examine what we can do better. For example, how do your men feel about their compensation?”

Kazanci Dogan cleared his throat. “There have been some complaints. We shoulder a heavy burden for the empire and see other men more richly rewarded.”

“I agree. My first act will be to go through my finances, determine where taxes are being misused, and divert all available funds to raising Janissary pay. I want you to think of an amount you feel is fair but generous. It is important to me that your soldiers—and you—know that no one values you or can take care of you as much as I can.” Mehmed’s smile dropped off, his eyes becoming as sharp as his tone. “No one can offer you what I can, and if anyone tried, it would be treason.”

Kazanci Dogan bowed deeper in an actual show of respect. “I look forward to serving you when you are our sultan.”

“Your father.”

“Yes. Our father.”

Mehmed nodded. “I trust that you will keep our meeting in confidence. I am not ready to declare my presence here yet. I would like more time in privacy to mourn my father’s imminent passing. Should anyone discover me, I would know who had betrayed me.”

Kazanci Dogan’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes, my father.”

Mehmed smiled, opening his arms generously. “I look forward to watching you lead. As soon as my father dies, we will agree upon the terms of pay increase, and you can announce it to your men.”

Bowing again, Kazanci Dogan was escorted out by Matei.

“Do you think it worked?” Mehmed asked, a worry line between his brows.

Radu collapsed onto a chair, relieved of the tension his body had been holding since the Janissary leader had arrived. “He is no fool. He knows you can offer him more than Halil Pasha could. And he was sincere about his men being tired. He will want to avoid fighting in the streets and a protracted civil war. He has more to gain now from an alliance with you.”

“I agree.” Mehmed stood, stretching. “As soon as I am secure on the throne, we will kill him.”

Radu blinked in shock, but Lada simply nodded, tightening the noose.

“What now?” Petru asked.

“Now we wait for my father to die and Ilyas to arrive.”

Both events happened the next day. Amal brought word from the wall that Ilyas had arrived en force and simply marched through the gate when the guards tried to deny them entry. Mehmed watched from the tower above his father’s room, the procession of white caps making a tremendous show through the streets.

“Is it done?” he asked.

Radu did not know what he spoke of, but Petru nodded. “Your father is dead.”

“Then I go to meet my people.” He turned away from the window, turban glittering with metal threads woven throughout. His clothes were deep purple, the traditional color of the Roman emperors. A heavy gold necklace, glimmering with rubies, hung from shoulder to shoulder, and a cape draped down his back.

They rode out. Kazanci Dogan’s Janissaries met them, gathering more as they went until they