Zekiye was slender with dusky skin, hair the color of midnight, and a will so fierce that it had earned her the name 'Black Flame.' She was also the most infamous of the Lady Şahin's ladies-in-waiting.

A few of the other servants had gathered in the courtyard where Zekiye was practicing her harp, clustered around the fountain or else whispering together in secluded alcoves overgrown with climbing honeysuckle and bougainvillea.

She played the harp with the same single-minded intensity as she did everything else. Her fingers moved in expert rhythm. There was no joy in the music, only a stern beauty that spoke of discipline, hard work, and sacrifice.

She finished the piece and slowly drew her fingers away from the strings. For a few moments there was silence, then soft applause came from the archway that led from the courtyard into the villa. Lady Şahin, the motherly, sharp-tongued woman whom she served, leaned into the doorway.

"Bravo," she said, applauding a little louder. "Beautiful as always, my dear. Though I must admit, I could have sworn you were fighting a battle there, not playing music."

Zekiye did not smile. "It is a battle," she replied. "Against mediocrity. There are too many musicians out there who are more interested in entertaining than in the true art of music. They have no talent, no discipline, no sense of duty. They are an insult to the music they play."