A crash and a plume of dust from the middle of Galata proved that the trebuchet aim was not perfect. Or perhaps it was deliberate, a warning to the people not to interfere. Radu was astonished at Mehmed’s brilliance.

In the meantime, yet another galley had slipped into the water, with two more on the way.

Cyprian did not look at Radu. “This plan had to be in the works for months. With all the supplies they would need, the logistics of it all … Did you know?”

Radu’s chest was heavy with the weight of failure. Not only had he failed Mehmed with the navy, Mehmed had anticipated the failure. He had made plans without Radu, plans to circumvent everything. How could Radu hope to offer such a man anything?

“I had no idea.” Radu shook his head, the music from across the horn mocking him. “I fear there may be even more plans I was not privy to.”

Cyprian put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If Mehmed suspected a hair of his beard knew his secrets, he would pluck it out and burn it.”

Radu refused the comfort. “I cannot help anymore.”

He could not help anyone.

Nazira picked out worms from the little grain they had left. “Do you suppose we could eat these?”

Radu grimaced. “If it came to it, we could. But if the siege lasts that long, Mehmed will have already lost. It is taking too long as it is.”

“I wish your escapade with ruining the food stores had been less successful.” Nazira gave him a wry smile.

“There is still food enough in Galata, though no one has the money to buy it. My sabotage has not ended the siege, only made it more miserable.” Radu leaned forward, resting his head on the table. He was due back at the wall in the evening. His last few shifts had been uneventful. Lonely, too. And Cyprian was gone more often than not by the time Radu returned home.

Evidently, Nazira was thinking of their host as well. “We could try to get more information from Cyprian.”

Radu did not lift his head. He would not go there. Not yet. “Too dangerous.”

Nazira sounded relieved. “I am glad you agree. Also, it feels … wrong. To use Cyprian any more than we already are.”

“He is a good person, and I— Sometimes I cannot bear to even look at him, knowing what we are doing here. I cannot bear to look at any of them. Constantine is a good man, too. Giustiniani. All of them. The longer we are here, the harder it is to remember why it was so important that we take the city. I have fought alongside them, I have bled with them, I have stood shoulder to shoulder as we killed my Muslim brothers. How—” Radu’s voice cracked, breaking on the last question. “How do we go on?” he whispered.

Nazira put a hand on his cheek. “You should ask to join Orhan and his men. They are kept away from the walls. You would not have to kill anyone. You should never have been put in that position. Your heart is too big for this work, Radu.” She leaned in and kissed his forehead. “I cannot imagine what you have been forced to see and do. No one could have clear eyes in the midst of that.”

“What does it matter? I have done no good.”

“You have. And we may yet do more. The kindest thing we can do for both sides is hasten the end of this siege. The longer it carries on, the worse it will be for everyone.” Nazira stood, pulling on her cloak. Though the days were warming up, the evenings were still cold. “I am going to meet with Helen. She complains that the last three days Coco has been even more on edge than usual, snapping at her and pacing incessantly.”

Radu’s interest was piqued. “He is their most important captain.”

“Precisely. Something is in motion for the sea. I do not know what, though.”

Radu stood, too, glad for something to do. “I will send Amal to Galata. I can signal him from the roof of the Hagia Sophia if something might be coming, and he can signal the galleys. I will watch Coco’s house through the night.”

“It may be nothing.”

Radu smiled grimly. “Then it will fit in perfectly well with all my other contributions so far.”

Radu settled into the shadows of a stoop three houses down from Coco’s. Amal had sprinted away to make the crossing to Galata before the gates closed for the evening. He knew of a tower with guards under Mehmed’s pay where he could watch for a signal.

It would probably amount to nothing, but it was better than being on the walls. Anything was better than being on the walls.

Radu let his mind drift, his thoughts punctuated by the distant beat of the bombardment. It never ceased, but in the heart of the city it was merely background noise. The scent of smoke and burning, too, drifted as afterthoughts. And there was no scent of blood. Merely the constant memory of it.

Because Radu did not want to think—not about Mehmed, not about boats, not about Cyprian—he recited sections of the Koran, lost himself to the beauty and rhythm of them. There was still some peace to be found there.

He was interrupted two hours before dawn. The door to Coco’s house opened, and several cloaked figures stepped out, hurrying through the streets. Toward the horn.

Radu ran in the opposite direction. The lock to the Hagia Sophia was as easy to pick now as though he had a key. He raced to the roof, where he pulled out a lantern. Three sides were polished metal, while the fourth was a pane of clear glass. He lit the wick inside, then pointed it toward Galata. He released a prayer of gratitude like a breath. The night was clear enough for the warning to be seen.

Just as Radu began to fear that Amal had not made it, a light answered him. It flashed three times in quick succession, then went dark. Radu blew his own light out. He did not know what, if anything, he had accomplished.

Then a shooting star, burning brightly, moved slowly across the sky. It left a trail of light in its wake, like a signal to him from the heavens themselves. Radu lifted a hand toward it, remembering that night so long ago when he had watched stars fall with Mehmed and Lada. He closed his eyes, gratitude and warmth filling him. Perhaps the superstitious city was finally getting to him, but he could not help but see this as a sign. He had done a good thing. He had helped Mehmed.

He went to the wall near the Romanus Gate, sliding among the men as though he had been there all night. He made certain to say a few words to some of them, taking a place in their memories. Although he faced out toward the Ottomans, all his thoughts were focused on the horn at his back and the city between them.