But Pyotr cannot settle. The night seems still, peaceful, and one would never guess that a war is brewing, and tensions are high. In the distance, an owl hoots its fatal cry, and he can't help but think that this might be an omen, a sign of the things to come.
In the old days, people used to say that the hoot of an owl was an harbinger of the fall of the heavens, a fissure in the divine seam. It may be myth, superstition, but Pyotr cannot shake his trepidations.
He focuses on Maimun's breathing, the gentle cadence of her in breath and release, as soft as the wind on a spring morning itself. She is a good woman, and knows how to keep him satiated. Her body, she says to him, each time they are together, is his to construct, to shape, to use. He has peace in his soul, but this peace is restless. Something else is in the night calling to him. Something else is moving, creeping around in his soul.
He tries to erase that by thinking of the way he pounded Maimun's netherparts, her convulsing body a criminal delight for him, to see her spasm, her eyes rolling back, her whimpers as she does, her hands holding tight to him, her fingernails digging into this hardened flesh, as if to ground her in the pain, as if to say that her pain is the penance and the sacred light one receives in serving her Lord, her husband.
Yet, even this fails to rest his soul. And the owl still hoots, nearer now As in a trance, Pyotr rises, softly, gently, so as not to wake his woman. He caresses her rump gently, lovingly, and slips out of bed, dresses.
He is mere shadow in the night. The guards are up and doing their rounds. Now that they have seen him, they will be extra vigilant. He visits the walls and towers. The men there greet him sombrely. At first they think they've seen a ghost, and then gradually, the compose themselves, and bow low, and assure him that all is well.
He roams for a bit through the sleepy streets, the back alleys of the central district, and then works his way to the Dungeons. The guards are surprised to see him. But he tells them he wishes to see the prisoner. They nod. He does not wish to be interrupted at all costs.