er. She was so still that she
seemed not even to breathe, while he discovered that his heart was
beating fast and hard. He wanted to kiss her, but not here, where hidden
eyes might be watching.

But kissing her at all would be a mistake.

The thought shook him--the realization that he must not get any closer
to her. He felt as if a rope were tied around his neck and a cruel slave
master had jerked on it.

_She is not for me. She is for my mission._

He turned away from her.

"It is better if we do not grow too close," he said, fixing his eyes on
a nearby orange tree. "I must use you. I will send you as my sultan has
sent me, and you will lie with the man I choose as my quarry."

He looked back and saw that she was smiling sadly, her eyes clouded with
disappointment. It pleased him in a bittersweet way to see that she
shared his unhappiness.

"I am _your_ slave, then?"

He shook his head. "I do not know whose you are--King Manfred's, I
suppose. Or perhaps Emperor Michael's? You have been given to me in
trust, like that emerald I brought here from El Kahira--from Cairo. What
you will have to do here will be no worse, I am sure, than what you must
have had to do before this."

"I am sure." There was a dark note in her voice now. He wished he could
take back what he said and ease her bitterness, but he had spoken truly,
and it was needful that she realize it.

"If you serve me well, I will reward you," he promised. "You will be
able to do anything in the world you want."

"Of that I cannot be sure," she said.

This time it was he who took her hand and held it tightly for a moment.
Her hand felt cool and lifeless in his grasp.

"We may not be lovers," he said, "but perhaps we can be friends."

"Perhaps," she said distantly.

Nettled, he rose and left her. If she would not accept him on those
terms, could he trust her? He turned his back on her and left the
garden.

He longed to know her thoughts. Could she love him? He knew he should
not hope for that, because it would have to come to nothing, but he
hoped she loved him at least a little.

It was not until he was back in his apartment, about to begin his noon
prayer, facing the charcoal mark he had made on the wall to point out
the direction of Mecca, that he realized what she had done to him.

_Rachel! We settled nothing about Rachel._

He struck his fist on the wall. He would have to be more careful with
Sophia. She could be very difficult. Even da