d our emperor for tribute and
submission," said Daoud, refilling his cup. He tensed, wondering whether
he was pushing the Tartars too far, too quickly. If they grew insulted
and refused to speak to him, he would have accomplished nothing.

He sipped his wine. Before tonight, the taste of wine had always
puckered his mouth, and he had had to force himself to drink it. But
this straw-colored wine was as sweet as spring water. John and Philip
seemed to enjoy it, too. They quickly emptied and refilled their cups.

Daoud watched the two Tartars closely as Ana translated his last remark.
A suggestion of amusement played about the eyes of the white-bearded
John Chagan. John, he guessed, must be about sixty years of age. Old
enough to have ridden under the founder of the Tartar empire, the ruler
called Genghis Khan. Philip, whose face was fuller, was probably half
John's age.

"We are at peace with Trebizond," said John. "We have exchanged
ambassadors." He took a gulp of wine and emitted a deeply satisfied
sigh.

"How can a people who believe that the whole world belongs to them
remain long at peace with anyone?" asked Daoud. He watched the woman,
Ana. If she were to dull the edge of what he said in translating it, his
effort would fail. But she seemed unmoved by what he said and repeated
it quickly in the Tartar tongue.

But now the two Tartars were glaring at him, Philip in open fury, John
with a cold hostility as if Daoud were an insect that needed to be
stepped on.

How much farther could he press them, he wondered as he took another sip
of wine and stared back.

XXII

Sophia felt cooler here, in the atrium of the Palazzo Monaldeschi, than
she had in the sala maggiore. A breeze blew through the archway that led
to the rear courtyard of the palace, but it did not blow hard enough to
keep the mosquitoes away. Nor did the essence of lemon in the wax
candles in lanterns that lit the atrium repel the whining little pests,
though it scented the air pleasantly, mingling with the sachet of dried
orange cuttings she wore under her gown, between her breasts.

To protect herself from the insects, Sophia wrapped her shawl around her
bare shoulders and drew her gauze veil over her face. She thought it
made her look more mysteriously attractive as well. Perhaps that was the
real reason Muslim women were willing to wear veils. She wondered
whether Daoud had a lover or a wife back in Cairo.

Probably half a dozen of ea