h a single bolt.

_Why am I thinking such a thing?_

Was he going mad? Sophia would let Simon make love to her, and in his
passion he would tell her much. Perhaps Daoud could find out more about
why Simon had sent Sordello into his camp. Perhaps Simon would give
Sophia some hint about the countermove he must be planning. Meanwhile
Sophia would trick Simon into thinking that Fra Tomasso had turned
against the alliance.

Killing Simon would be foolishness. Until now the mishaps that had
befallen the French and the Tartars had seemed accidental. Murder Simon,
and his enemies would have proof that there were plotters in Orvieto,
and they would seek them out. And the first place they would look would
be the place where Simon was killed, the establishment of Cardinal
Ugolini, the chief opponent of the Tartar-Christian alliance.

Still, Daoud felt his blood seethe. He remembered a summer night over
ten years before, when he had bribed a slave and slipped through an
unlocked gate into the arms of Ayesha, the young wife of Emir Tughril
al-Din, then his commanding officer. They had lain together all that
night on the roof of the mansion of Tughril al-Din, bathed in sweat, and
the sweet terror of the blades that would hew his naked body to pieces
if they were discovered goaded him into plunging into her again and
again. Only the moon and stars bore witness that he was enjoying the
wife of his commander, the man who ordered him about and punished him
when he made an error, the man who had the power of life and death over
him. Toward dawn, the delight of it bubbled up in his throat and he
laughed so loudly that the small Circassian girl put her hand over his
mouth.

_And now he does to me that which I did to Tughril al-Din._

Daoud shook his head. Nonsense. Sophia was not his wife, and it was for
this very purpose, to seduce, corrupt, and spy upon the enemy, that he
had brought her here.

_To use her, as I used Rachel and the women at Tilia's. First the Tartar
took Rachel, and now de Gobignon takes Sophia. And I am nothing but a
slave and a panderer._

A second silhouetted figure appeared beside Simon, much shorter, with
unbound hair falling in waves and a narrow waist. Daoud saw Sophia rest
her hand on his shoulder. A moment later she took the Frenchman's hand,
and they both turned away from the window. The curtain fell back in
place behind them.

_She leads him to bed!_

Daoud was shaking with rage. Every muscle in hi