er.

Simon and the Franciscan were looking, not at Rachel, but at Sophia.

"David told you I was here," Sophia said. "He must have."

In an instant, she understood why Daoud had told Simon where to find
her. And why Rachel kept weeping and weeping.

"Is he dead?" she asked.

They answered her with silence.

A wave of dizziness came over her. She reeled, and Rachel was holding
her up. Friar Mathieu took her arm, and they lowered her into the
armchair. She knocked the candle to the floor, putting it out. Now the
only light in the room was the red glow of the fire.

She felt empty inside.

_I am mortally wounded_, she thought. _I feel now only a shock, a
numbness. The pain will come._

The only reason Daoud would tell Simon where to find her had to be that
he was dying and wanted Simon to protect her. Daoud truly must be dead.

Simon's anguished look, as if he were begging for something, confirmed
it. But to be sure, she had to hear it.

"Has David been killed?"

Simon nodded slowly, his eyes huge with pain. "I was with him when he
died. I even know now that he is not David but--Daoud." He hesitated,
pronouncing the unfamiliar name.

_I was with him when he died._

_Daoud!_

She wanted to scream, but she hurt so much inside that she could not
even scream. She could not make a sound.

Daoud was _gone_. She had seen him, she had spoken to him, she had loved
him for the last time.

But she _had_ to see him again. Her cold hand fumbled at her neck,
pulled the locket up from her bosom by its silver chain. She turned the
screw that opened it and stared at the spirals and squares.

Nothing happened. The pattern, to her eyes a jumble of shapes
representing nothing, remained inert.

Even his likeness was gone.

How had he died? She looked up at Simon to ask him.

And then she did scream.

Sordello crouched in the semidark behind Simon, his two-edged dagger,
reflecting red firelight, poised horizontally to slash Simon's
unprotected throat. His eyes glittered. His mouth shaped a slack-lipped
smile, as if he were drunk, baring his gleaming, broken teeth.

Sordello seemed not even to notice her scream. Without a sound, unseen
by the other three, who were all staring at Sophia, he raised his left
arm to seize Simon and his right hand to strike with the dagger.

Sophia's hand dove into the bag at her waist. The loose dart could
scratch her, and a scratch might be enough to kill her, but that did not
matter