She smiled and nodded back. "Yes. Very good, John. Che bello!" Perhaps she could get him to sing more, and put off the moment she dreaded. But he stood up with a look on his face that froze her heart in her chest. There was nothing ferocious or cruel in it or even lustful. There was neither kindness nor pity in it, nor anything that recognized her as a person. It was the satisfied smile of a man looking upon a possession. He slipped off the wide-sleeved gown and unbuckled his belt. She began to tremble uncontrollably. * * * * * Daoud sat slumped with exhaustion on the carpeted floor of Ugolini's cabinet. The long night just past had drained him of all his energy. He wanted to sleep, but first he must see to it that Ugolini made good use of the advantage they had gained at the contessa's reception. A strong, rich, familiar smell filtered into his nostrils, and his head lifted, as if a powerful hand had gripped it. The door opened, and a servant carried in a tray laden with six small porcelain cups, one each for Ugolini, Daoud, Sophia, and Lorenzo and two extra, as well as two pitchers. Ugolini pushed aside a pile of parchment on his work table, and the servant set the tray down. As the door closed behind the servant, Daoud drew a deep breath to identify the smell and felt a glow of surprised pleasure. "Is it possible?" he said to Ugolini. "You have found kaviyeh?" Ugolini, sitting in the big chair behind his work table, just his head and shoulders showing, smiled benignly. "You may hate the Tartars for invading the Islamic lands, my friend, but it means that we Christians can now trade with that part of the world. The Venetians have been importing the beans from the uplands of Persia in small--and very expensive--quantities. I was saving this for a special occasion. This morning, after your triumph over the Tartars and your narrow escape from death, seemed appropriate." Daoud found the strength to stand up and pour the steaming black liquid from the pitcher into a cup. He held the cup to his face with both hands and sniffed deeply. He felt happier than he had in a long time. Sophia, sitting on a padded bench against the wall opposite Ugolini's table, said, "What is that?" Daoud heard shrill alarm in her voice. She must suspect it was some sort of drug, thought Daoud with amusement. The cardinal chuckled amiably. "Only a beverage, my dear. Long used in the Orient by sages and poets. It produces a heightened state of alertness and vigor." Daoud sipped the hot liquid. The taste was wondrously bracing after months of deprivation, but it was not quite strong enough. "This is very good, and I am your grateful slave forever," he said. "But you should tell your servants to boil it longer." Having sensed that Sophia feared his pleasure, he wanted to share it with her that she might see how harmless it was. He went to her and held out his cup. "Try this. Be careful, the cup is hot."