It was in God's hands now.

"Are you sure he is not dead?" Lorenzo said in a low, awed voice.

"Look for yourself. He breathes. His heart beats."

Lorenzo shook his head. "What is that stuff?"

Daoud pointed to the two Africans, who stood calmly by, awaiting orders.
"_They_ know. In the jungle below the great desert, where it is very hot
and wet, a body can rot in hours. Tiny men, less than half our size,
live there, and they hunt large animals for their meat. They smear this
stuff on their darts. It comes from a mushroom that grows in their
forest. The animal struck is paralyzed and unconscious, but it lives.
They have time to carry it back to their village, which may take days,
and then they can slaughter it and butcher it."

"But what a blessing this could be for the wounded and the sick," said
Lorenzo. "Why does the world not know of it?"

Daoud shrugged. "The tiny men kill those who venture into their forests.
What little is brought back by Arab traders is kept as a precious
secret. Only sultans may permit its use." He turned to the two blacks.
"Take him upstairs now."

XXX

Well satisfied with what Tilia had accomplished, Daoud gazed about at
the frescoed moons, stars, and suns scattered across the dark blue walls
of the apartment. A cool night breeze blew through the rooms from
windows hidden by screens and gauzy curtains. In the large central
chamber an oval pool gave off a scent of roses. Hangings of violet,
silver, and azure turned the rooms into a maze that baffled the eye.

Everywhere Daoud looked he saw beds and divans and cushions. The floors
were covered with soft rugs and the tables laden with pitchers of wine
and plates of peaches, grapes, and melon slices.

In a corner of a smaller room, its walls covered with maroon and black
drapes, the flame of a large candle warmed a solution of wine and
hashish in a green earthenware bowl. A single silver cup stood beside
the candle.

"All this for one lousy traditore?" said Lorenzo.

"After he has experienced what I have prepared for him tonight, he will
no longer be a traitor," said Daoud. "His very soul will be mine, and
that will be worth--all this."

He watched the two silent black men lug in the naked body of Sordello,
and he pointed to a forest-green divan beside the pool. Gently they laid
Sordello there.

Tilia Caballo appeared from behind a curtain. At a gesture from her, the
two black men bowed to Daoud and left.

Three women