it burned the lining of his stomach.

"What is it?"

"Wine mixed with hashish."

Daoud was shocked.

_Filth, spiritual poison!_

Saadi himself had taught him that. And now Saadi had tricked him into
sipping the vile stuff.

He swayed on his knees, feeling dizzy and angry. Saadi held up a warning
hand.

"Remain in the Presence of God. He will protect you from the ill effects
of the poison. This is the practice."

Daoud struggled back to the infinite emptiness that hid God, and as he
did so he felt his mind clear. The drugs were spreading like tiny flames
through his body, but his body was far away. Too far away for him to
feel the heat.

Beside him, Saadi said, "Everything made by God has two sides, a useful
side and a harmful side. That which is sometimes a poison can at other
times be a medicine. Even kaviyeh, which we drink in such great
quantities to give vigor to our minds, can be a poison. If a substance
is taken in the right amount, on the right occasion, with the right
attitude, it can unlock doors in the mind. Our lord Baibars, peace be
upon him, has told me he plans to send you to the Hashishiyya for
further training. This practice will help you to gain more from their
teachings--and protect you from being corrupted by them. In the months
to come you will learn to take in every kind of intoxicating substance
and keep your mind free. This is not magic. This is a power of the
spirit. What are you feeling?"

"The drug devours my body, but my mind is in the Presence of God."

"One day, when you have learned all you can from the Hashishiyya, I will
teach you the secret of the most powerful drug of all--soma, the drug
that is made by the mind and does not harm the body at all."

* * * * *

_No head for wine? No man in this room is less susceptible to wine._

De Verceuil still stood beside the white-bearded pope. His gloomy face
tightened as his eyes met Daoud's.

Daoud dropped to one knee before the pope and kissed the heavy gold ring
that bore a tiny engraving of a man in a boat. He saw that the old man
was wearing white satin slippers.

Daoud felt so dizzied by the wonder of this moment that the tiled floor
seemed to shake under him. He held in his hand the hand of the Pope of
Rome, successor to those popes who had sent wave after wave of crusaders
crashing against the walls of Islam, whose words had caused the deaths
of thousands and thousands of the faithful. He