"Dangerous to whom?" "To me," said a deep voice behind Daoud. III Daoud turned, dragging Celino. A blond man stood, hands on hips, eyeing him with a faint smile. One of the big doors leading into the royal audience chamber was slightly ajar. Daoud was angry at himself for letting someone slip up behind him unnoticed. "Sire, get back!" Lorenzo shouted. _Sire._ Daoud knew at once who this was. The same height as Lorenzo, as Daoud now saw, the man had the very broad shoulders Christian knights developed from wielding their huge two-handed swords. Daoud guessed his age at a little over thirty. His hair, so blond it was almost silver, hung in soft waves below his ears, curling at the ends. His silver-blond mustache was carefully trimmed. His eyelids crinkled with amusement. He wore a tunic of lime-colored silk under a short forest-green cloak trimmed with white fur. His hose and boots were also shades of green. From a chain around his neck hung a five-pointed silver star with a spherical ruby in its center. In every point he fit the description Daoud had been given. The despair Daoud had been feeling a moment before gave way to a profound relief. It had seemed that everything stood in the way of his meeting this man, and now at last they were face-to-face. "Sire," Daoud said in Italian, "I know who you are, and you must know who I am." "I do indeed," said Manfred von Hohenstaufen, still smiling. "Please release Messer Lorenzo." Daoud hesitated only a moment. But if Manfred allowed Lorenzo to hurt him now, the mission was a failure anyway. Tensed for attack, he let go of Lorenzo, who sprang away. In an instant the Sicilian had taken a curving Islamic sword from a soldier. "Sire, at least move back from him," Lorenzo said. "You know what we are dealing with here." "Quiet, Lorenzo," snapped Manfred. "What we are dealing with is a peddler from some misty land beyond the Black Sea who happens to be infernally nimble. That is all." Daoud was pleased to hear Manfred go along with his disguise. He relaxed a bit and eyed the king of southern Italy and Sicily. A splendid-looking man with a charm that Daoud felt after only a moment's acquaintance. "Will the peddler be so kind as to return my dagger?" Lorenzo asked with heavy irony. "This side of the Black Sea it is considered discourteous to stand in the king's presence holding a naked weapon." "Of course," said Daoud, holding the dagger by its guard and handing it hilt-first to Lorenzo, who in turn gave the Saracen soldier back his sword. Daoud was glad he had not had to kill Lorenzo. The Sicilian, like his master, Manfred, was clearly a man above the common run. His behavior toward Daoud so far had been a series of clever pretenses. Indeed, Daoud was sure he had not gotten to the bottom of Lorenzo yet. "I thank you for entertaining us with this display of your fighting skills, Messer David," said King Manfred. "Now let us talk of the silk trade. Join us, Lorenzo."