he truth out of her?"

The thought of de Gobignon laying violent hands on Sophia angered Daoud,
and he spoke impulsively.

"_Then_ I will kill him."

"God help us!" Ugolini went back to his work table and sat down behind
it, his hands over his face.

At once Daoud regretted what he had said. But was there no way to
instill courage into this man?

"There is much work for you to do, Cardinal," he said. "You must not
falter now."

"Then let there be no more talk of killing," said Ugolini fiercely,
taking his hands from his face.

Daoud poured himself another cup of kaviyeh and stood looking down at
Ugolini.

"With so much at stake, surely you know I would not do anything rash."

"You need not think of _doing anything_," Ugolini said, a plea in his
eyes. "As long as the pope delays his decision about the Tartars, your
people are safe."

True enough, Daoud thought. Delay was a large part of his mission. But,
despite what Ugolini might think, it was not enough. For the safety of
Islam, an alliance between Tartars and Christians must be made
impossible.

"Your Eminence, will it please you to visit the cardinals who heard the
Tartars condemn themselves last night?" He tried not to make it sound
like an order.

"I see no need for that," said Ugolini.

Of course, Daoud thought. The little cardinal's mind was so full of fear
that he could not see at all.

"But I am hoping that you can organize a delegation of cardinals to go
to the pope and urge him to give up the idea of an alliance with the
Tartars. After all, you are the cardinal camerlengo. Your word has
weight."

Ugolini made a bridge of his interlaced fingers and rested his forehead
against them, as if his head ached.

"I have attacked the Tartars at the pope's council." He spoke down at
his table, barely loud enough for Daoud to hear him. "I have introduced
you into the highest circles in Orvieto. I have let you recruit
criminals and instigate riots while you live in my mansion. I hear you
plotting murder." He looked up suddenly, wild-eyed. "Basta! Enough!"

Despair made Daoud feel weak. He knew this sick feeling came partly from
being awake all night, poisoning himself with al-koahl, and nearly
getting himself murdered. He told himself it did not matter how he felt.
He was Sufi-trained, and could control his feelings. He was a Mameluke,
and must remain on the attack.

But he chose not to meet Ugolini's refusal directly.

"I also hope that you wil