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eyes, pointing at the white beast.
    Jahan glimpsed partly hidden female faces behind latticed windows, ornamented birdhouses on the walls, domes that caught the last rays of sun and lots of trees – chestnut, linden, quince. Wherever he turned he saw seagulls and cats, the two animals that were given free rein. Perky and pert, the seagulls soared in circles, diving to peck at the bait in a fisherman’s bucket, or the fried liver on a street vendor’s tray, or the pie left to cool on a windowsill. Nobody seemed to mind. Even when they chased away the birds, they did so reluctantly, making a show of it.
    Jahan learned that the city had twenty-four gates and was composed of three towns: Istanbul, Galata and Scutari. He observed that people were attired in different colours, though according to what rule, he could not fathom. There were water-carriers with dainty china cups and pedlars hawking everything from musk to dried mackerel. Here and there he spotted a tiny wooden shack where theysold drinks in earthenware cups. ‘Sherbet,’ said the official, smacking his lips, but Jahan had no clue what it tasted like.
    As they drove along, the official pointed things out:
This cove is Georgian, that one Armenian. The scrawny figure over there is a dervish, the one beside him a dragoman. This man, a wearer of green, is an imam, for only they can put on the colour favoured by the Prophet. See the baker around the corner, he is Greek. They make the best bread, those infidels, but don’t you dare eat any, they draw the sign of the cross on every loaf. One bite and you’ll turn into one of them. This shopowner is Jewish. He sells chickens but can’t kill the birds himself and pays a rabbi to do that. That fella with sheepskin over his shoulders and rings in his pierced ears is a Torlak – a holy soul, some say, a sluggard if you ask me. Look at those Janissaries over there! They are not allowed to grow beards, only moustaches
.
    The Muslims wore turbans; Jews had red hats; and Christians, black hats. Arabs, Kurds, Nestorians, Circassians, Kazakhs, Tatars, Albanians, Bulgarians, Greeks, Abkhazs, Pomaks … they walked separate paths while their shadows met and mingled in knots.
    ‘There are seventy-two and a half tribes,’ the official said; ‘each has its place. As long as everyone knows their limits we live in peace.’
    ‘Who are the half?’ Jahan asked.
    ‘Oh, the Gypsies. No one trusts them. They are forbidden to ride horses, only donkeys. They are not allowed to breed but they multiply anyhow, they got no shame. Stay away from the whole cursed bunch of these stinking heathens!’
    Nodding, Jahan decided to steer clear of anyone who looked like a Gypsy. Gradually, the houses became sparse, the trees grew taller, and the din subsided.
    ‘I ought to make the elephant ready before we present him to the Sultan,’ Jahan said eagerly. ‘A gift from the Indian Shah must look handsome.’
    The man raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you know, lad? Your padishah is gone.’
    ‘What do you mean,
effendi
?’
    ‘Al-Sultan al-Azam Humayun … While you were on that ship, helost his throne. All he has left is a wife and a couple of servants, we heard. He’s not a ruler any more.’
    Jahan pursed his lips. What would happen to the elephant now that the king who had sent him was king no more? He had no doubt that should Sultan Suleiman ship the animal back he would die on board. Perturbed, he said, ‘Chota won’t survive another voyage.’
    ‘Don’t fret. They won’t return him,’ said the official. ‘We’ve all sorts of beasts in the palace, but never had a white elephant before.’
    ‘Do you think they’ll like him?’
    ‘The Sultan won’t be bothered. He’s got important tasks. But the Sultana …’
    The official lapsed into silence. A haunting look came over his face as he stared hard and long at something in the distance. When Jahan followed his gaze, he saw, looming high atop a promontory, the outline of a huge