nding on the arm of the chair. Only the yellow gleam
of the candle and the reddish light of a low fire on the hearth
illuminated the room. From the shadows along the wall, the icon of Saint
Simon stared at her.

She wondered whether she should have spoken to Daoud of what she had
come to suspect. Her time of the month, regular as the moon itself since
she was a girl, was over six weeks late. It seemed the brew of myrrh,
juniper berries, and powdered rhubarb Tilia had concocted for her, and
which she had drunk faithfully every morning for six months, might have
finally done its work.

She wanted Daoud to know, though she was not sure whether he would be
pleased. He had never said that he had any children. She wanted to be
sure she was truly carrying his child before she told him. Tilia had
advised her to wait until at least twelve weeks had gone by without an
issue of blood.

But now it hurt her that she had not told him. It would have been
another parting gift she could have given him.

Darkness had fallen. The foreboding quiet of Benevento was broken by
shouts in the distance, growing louder as they came closer.

She heard a scream from the street. A woman's voice, shrill with fear.
She shut her eyes and shuddered. Another scream, this time a man's voice
and full of agony.

Sophia's body grew colder. She looked at Ugolini and saw that he was
trembling.

It was not just terror that was making her cold. The fire was burning
too low. She got up and laid two more split logs on it.

Back on the bed, she reached into the neck of her gown and pulled on the
long silver chain, drawing out the locket Daoud had given her. She
twisted the screw and opened it and stared for a moment at the engraved,
interlocking arabesque pattern.

Then Daoud's face superimposed itself, and the pattern disappeared. It
was not a picture of him; it _was_ Daoud, as if she were seeing him
through an open window. It was magic, and it frightened her. She had
never before encountered magic. His face was alive, though it did not
move. His blue eyes seemed to look right at her. She never quite caught
him blinking, but it seemed as if he might have, just a moment ago. He
appeared about to speak to her. Just as the fresh logs on the fire made
the room warmer, so her terror subsided at the sight of him.

"What is that?" Tilia asked.

"A keepsake Daoud gave me." She closed the hammered silver case and slid
it back inside the top of her gown.

"W