put on his bayda, his
egg-shaped helmet, and wrapped the silk of his turban around and around
it, and when it was properly tied, pinned it with an emerald clasp.

"Someday you must do that slowly for me, so I can learn how to wrap your
turban," said Sophia. "I would like to do that for you." A pang of
sorrow for her struck his heart as he realized she was speaking of their
future together to convince herself that there would be one. He wished
he could free her from fear.

While he dressed, she had quietly been dressing, too, in a long blue
gown and a fiery orange woolen mantle.

He looked down at the weapons laid out on the chest, selected a dagger,
and stuck it in his belt. Next to the dagger lay the Scorpion, the tiny
crossbow, assembled, with a box of finger-length darts beside it. Surely
not a weapon for a battle, he thought.

"Here." He turned to Sophia and handed her the crossbow. "I know you
have a dagger, but you can use this to protect yourself too. Sometimes I
coat the darts with a drug that makes a man unconscious, sometimes with
deadly poison. These darts are poisoned--be very careful with them. Most
people have never seen a weapon like this, so it will surprise them. And
you do not have to get close to your enemy to use it."

"I do not need protection," said Sophia. "You will be out there
protecting me."

"If you take it, it will put my mind at ease," said Daoud.

"For that reason only," said Sophia, dropping the tiny crossbow and the
box of darts into a leather bag on top of her own traveling chest.

Daoud picked up the locket. Its hammered silver outer surface glowed
softly in the candlelight.

"Please take this too," he said. "You have seen me wear it many times.
After I have left you today, open it. I believe you will see a
picture--an image--of me."

She lowered her head and rested her hands on his armored chest as he
hung the locket on its silver chain around her neck.

He unfolded his forest-green linen cape and draped it over himself,
clasping it at his throat with a gold chain.

He took her in his arms, carefully, so as not to hurt her with the steel
breastplate, and pressed his lips against hers for a long time.

A knock at the door broke their kiss. "My lord, your horse is ready,"
said Husain's voice.

At the door of the house, Ugolini and Tilia, both of them heavily
cloaked against the cold night air, were waiting for them. In the light
of the single small oil lamp burning besi