t had
happened so easily, so quickly. Was she becoming more than one person,
like someone possessed by spirits? How could you know who you were
unless you had a place and were firmly attached to other people?

Now, looking at David, she was aware of the feelings Simon had aroused
in her as if they were the feelings of another person. Sophia
Karaiannides wanted David. Her longing for him had been growing in her
ever since their eyes first met in Manfred's audience hall months
before.

"What is troubling you?" David said, frowning.

She felt flustered. "Nothing." When he looked skeptical, she added, "I
am not certain how he feels about me."

David glowered at her. She tried to read his expression. He looked
angry. Was he angry at her for being willing to take Simon as a lover?

_He probably thinks I am nothing but a whore._

She liked to think of herself as a woman who was able to move easily in
many circles, a woman who involved herself in affairs of state. But was
she not deceiving herself? Was it not that all men valued her for was
her body in bed? And David did not even want that; he just wanted to use
her body to ensnare Simon de Gobignon.

Then why did he look at her so angrily?

"How will you find out what he feels for you?" David said. "Will you
wait for him to make the next move?"

"I will send him a small favor, something he recognizes as mine. Then we
will see how interested he is."

"Good," said David briskly.

As if dismissing her, he turned to Lorenzo. "Speaking of ladies and
love, our young friend Rachel is still living here. I want you to escort
her to Madama Tilia's house this afternoon."

Sophia stifled a gasp. She felt as if she had been struck from behind.
She wanted to cry out in protest, but she knew it was useless.

"Must I?" said Lorenzo, and Sophia saw pain in his eyes.

"Remember your promise to me in Rome," David said, fixing him with a
grim stare.

Lorenzo sighed. "I remember."

Sophia's heart, already bruised by her gloomy thoughts about herself,
ached even harder for Rachel. She had tried to save her from being sent
to Tilia's, but there was no more she could do. If Ugolini was right
about their being in such terrible danger, Rachel might be safer at
Tilia's than here.

How could she help Rachel, she thought desolately, when she herself was
a stranger among strangers?

XVII

The beauty of Orvieto, Simon thought, was that, isolated as it was on
its great rock,