quantities. I was saving this for a special occasion. This
morning, after your triumph over the Tartars and your narrow escape from
death, seemed appropriate."

Daoud found the strength to stand up and pour the steaming black liquid
from the pitcher into a cup. He held the cup to his face with both hands
and sniffed deeply. He felt happier than he had in a long time.

Sophia, sitting on a padded bench against the wall opposite Ugolini's
table, said, "What is that?" Daoud heard shrill alarm in her voice.

She must suspect it was some sort of drug, thought Daoud with
amusement.

The cardinal chuckled amiably. "Only a beverage, my dear. Long used in
the Orient by sages and poets. It produces a heightened state of
alertness and vigor."

Daoud sipped the hot liquid. The taste was wondrously bracing after
months of deprivation, but it was not quite strong enough.

"This is very good, and I am your grateful slave forever," he said. "But
you should tell your servants to boil it longer."

Having sensed that Sophia feared his pleasure, he wanted to share it
with her that she might see how harmless it was. He went to her and held
out his cup.

"Try this. Be careful, the cup is hot."

She took the cup from him, her fingers brushing his. He felt a tingle in
his arm. She raised the cup, sniffed suspiciously and grimaced, but took
a small sip.

He was disappointed to see her mouth pucker. She did not like it. Well,
he could not expect her to take to it at once. He had been drinking it
ever since he was a child. Even his crusader family had drunk kaviyeh.

"A very interesting taste," she said, handing back the cup. A Byzantine
comment, he thought. He heard Lorenzo chuckle.

A pang of jealousy shot through him. He could not expect her to like
kaviyeh any more than he could expect her to love him. Especially not
after she had been alone in the Monaldeschi atrium with that damned
French count.

His longing for Sophia made his heart ache. If only he could have her
for himself, and not be forced to throw her at Simon de Gobignon. But
she was no more his than that emerald Baibars had entrusted to him.

Resignedly he told himself he must find out what she had accomplished.

"How did you deal with the Frankish count?"

"As you wished me to."

He walked back to the cardinal's table and turned to face her. Her amber
eyes were fixed on him. She must have been watching him cross the room.

"Does he want to see you again?" Dav