Free The Gaze by Elif Shafak

After all, Tobolsk had become the most important city in Siberia. Because the Russians saw Tobolsk not only as a commercial but also as a religious centre, they’d built a convent and a monastery side-by-side, as well as a religious school. The missionaries who sought to teach God’s name to the primitives and to uproot idolatrous practices were entertained here for a while before setting out into the wilderness. When it came to commerce, all the merchants saw it as an important place to visit regularly. Tadjik and Tartar tradesmen in particular used to bring valuable goods from the east to the markets of Tobolsk.
    The military governor of Tobolsk looked at the blood on the tip of his finger. The wound had bled again when he had picked at it. He filled his glass again. When he came here he’d had fifty servants, five prostitutes who were always bickering among themselves, three priests, and hundreds of barrels of wine and drink. If things continued to go the way they were, he was sure that he would leave with nine or ten times more. The trapping season was about to reach its end. Soon, all of the native tribes along the border would deliver their tribute. Any day, the Cossacks who ranged further would be turning back, with their furs. Furs! The military governor of Tobolsk smiled as he crushed between his fingers the scab he had picked. He loved fur. If it wasn’t for fur he wouldn’t be able to stand this cursed place for a single day.
    He started to do the accounts in his head. Indeed his favourite thing was to go to his room at the end of the day and gulp his drink while adding up what he had made. This time he’d even succeeded in fooling the devil. When he’d thought of kidnapping the children of the troublesome Tunguz tribe, who hadn’t paid their protection money for some time, he’d solved the problem once and for all. Now he was selling the children back to their parents for sable furs. To tell the truth, kidnapping the leaders of the tribe was very difficult, but quite profitable. He could get sledges full of furs in exchange for them. When some of them unnecessarily tried to resist, the military governor dealt out their punishment himself. He branded them with an iron whose capital letters had dropped off. He always branded them in the same place; right between their eyes. Wherever the prisoners went in the future, none of them would ever pick up a mirror again, and they would remind everyone who saw them of the military governor’s power.
    There were also shamans among those who were kidnapped. They were quite strange. They made such startling sounds in their cells at night that none of the guards liked to watch over them. They would ululate until dawn and stamp their feet, and they’d spin for hours, tearing their rattling chains and jingling walrus tusk necklaces to pieces. Sometimes the military governor would go down and watch them from a corner. He would throw maggot-infested meat that had been put aside for the sledge dogs in front of them. Until now, none of them had refused it. They’d chew heavily on the repulsive, stinking meat; the colour of its rottenness wrapped itself around the eyes. Every time he saw this, the military governor became nauseous and rushed away.
    It was not long before he’d be free of this cursed place. He was going to leave in the near future. If he’d sunk his teeth in just a little bit more, he would have been one of the wealthiest men in the country when he left. His train of thought was broken by the pounding on the door. It was his orderly.
    ‘Sir, there’s a sable trapper outside. He says he has something very valuable in his sack. He won’t show it to anyone but you.’
    ‘All right,’ said the military governor. He sighed in distress. ‘Let him come in. Let’s have a look and see what he has in this sack.’
    A little later, Timofei Ankidinov, with a haughty expression, followed the orderly inside. He had straightened his back and was about to recite the