Mehmet rapped with his stick on the door of the house. It took a moment for his summons to be answered. "I wish to speak to Aliénor," he said.
The woman who opened the door - tall, muscular and with traces of white hair curling out from under her headscarf - glared at him. "And what is your business?"
"I am Mehmet the scholar. I have come to see your mistress about Khadem."
"Khadem is not welcome here."
"Then you need have no worry. Khadem is dead."
The woman's expression shifted, but only slightly. "Then come in. My mistress is this way." Mehmet followed her inside, leaving the heat of the Damascene evening for the cool corridors of the house. Eventually they came to a room just off a courtyard, where an elegant redheaded lady was sprawled on a divan. Mehmet's escort bowed to her. "My lady Aliénor. This is Mehmet the scholar. He has come here to -."
"To talk to you about Khadem," Mehmet interrupted.
The redhead - Aliénor - sat up and scowled. "And how is he?"
"Dead."
"Ah." Aliénor nodded, then turned to her servant. "Gweneth - bring refreshments. Mint tea and dates for our guest."
Gweneth bowed. "My lady." Then she left.
Mehmet sat on nearby cushion, his joints protesting at the effort. "Yes. Khadem. He is dead. I believe that you were intimate with him?" He gave Aliénor a questioning look.
"I was his confidant," Aliénor replied. "Some might even have said his muse. But we were never ... ." She fixed Mehmet with a cold stare. "We were never intimate. He tried, but I wouldn't let him."
"He was repulsive," Gweneth remarked as she set a silver platter laden with drinks and sweetmeats on the low table between Aliénor and Mehmet. "He was not worthy of my lady's gifts. How did he die?"
"Poison," Mehmet answered. "A slow death and an unpleasant one, judging from what I saw. His body was bloated from whatever toxin was used. It was likely from what he was eating at the time."
"If he died as a result of his appetites," Gweneth sniffed, "then it was truly justice." Then she stood back from the table.
"You said he was eating before he died?" Aliénor asked. She handed Mehmet a small cup full of fragrant mint tea. "What was he eating?" She held out a plate of sticky dates filled with chopped nuts.
Mehmet reached out to take one of the proferred treats, then stopped. "He was eating dates. Just like these ones." His hand dropped to his side.
"Do not worry," the redhead said. She smiled at Mehmet, and for a moment he forgot the reason why he was here. "These ones are not poisoned."
