thought of offending him.

It began to dawn on her, though, that John was not behaving like a
brute, as she had feared he would when she first saw him in the doorway.
If she looked behind the black slits that were his eyes, under the
tanned-leather skin, he seemed a pleasant old man. His language might be
gibberish to her, but it was clear that he was trying to entertain her,
even woo her.

But she hated the thought of what he was trying to woo her _for_.

He ended his song by clapping his hands rhythmically--she counted nine
handclaps. He followed that with more eager smiles and nods. He actually
wanted to know whether she liked his song. She relaxed a bit.

She smiled and nodded back. "Yes. Very good, John. Che bello!" Perhaps
she could get him to sing more, and put off the moment she dreaded.

But he stood up with a look on his face that froze her heart in her
chest. There was nothing ferocious or cruel in it or even lustful. There
was neither kindness nor pity in it, nor anything that recognized her as
a person. It was the satisfied smile of a man looking upon a possession.

He slipped off the wide-sleeved gown and unbuckled his belt. She began
to tremble uncontrollably.

* * * * *

Daoud sat slumped with exhaustion on the carpeted floor of Ugolini's
cabinet. The long night just past had drained him of all his energy. He
wanted to sleep, but first he must see to it that Ugolini made good use
of the advantage they had gained at the contessa's reception.

A strong, rich, familiar smell filtered into his nostrils, and his head
lifted, as if a powerful hand had gripped it. The door opened, and a
servant carried in a tray laden with six small porcelain cups, one each
for Ugolini, Daoud, Sophia, and Lorenzo and two extra, as well as two
pitchers. Ugolini pushed aside a pile of parchment on his work table,
and the servant set the tray down.

As the door closed behind the servant, Daoud drew a deep breath to
identify the smell and felt a glow of surprised pleasure.

"Is it possible?" he said to Ugolini. "You have found kaviyeh?"

Ugolini, sitting in the big chair behind his work table, just his head
and shoulders showing, smiled benignly. "You may hate the Tartars for
invading the Islamic lands, my friend, but it means that we Christians
can now trade with that part of the world. The Venetians have been
importing the beans from the uplands of Persia in small--and very
expensive--