Slave Auction

There was no time for tears. Valentina's time had come.

She was led to the auction block in a daze; at first she could not see for the blazing torchlights which ringed the stage, but soon her eyes adjusted and the crowd of ogling faces was exposed to her, as her almost naked body was exposed to them.

Her head held high and proud, her eyes blazing, she awed the lascivious spectators as though she were a goddess come down to earth. For a long moment there was a silent tribute to her beauty, but it ended with the first bid.

She strained to see where this came from, but tears of humiliation were dimming her sight. She blinked them back as the bidding grew more frantic hoping that it would soon end, and she, like the young slave before her, might be released to some lesser hell.

The cacophony increased; the slavemaster was screaming back at the crowd with his own frenzied demands for higher bids. "Who would have this highborn, this jewel among princesses? See how her hair burns in the light?" Valentina felt her hair pulled back and tangled fetchingly. "And the form . . . the breasts, the legs . . ."

Hot, lustful eyes examined every inch of Valentina's near nakedness, made even more desirable by the blushes that did not stop at her cheeks, but suffused her entire body with a rosy glow of shame. Ecstasy's Captive Nelle McFather For Art, and the Tall Ships

A LEISURE BOOK

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
41 E. 60th Street
New York City

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

Printed in the United States of America For Aleece:
beloved sister and collaborator

Chapter One

The Siege

Many miles distant from the aged Villa Cortivanni, which was doomed to undergo attack that very night, young Marco Polo slept peacefully in his home in Venice. The house of Polo, now headed by a distant uncle to Nicolo and Maffeo, Marco's father and uncle, would also be under siege within a few hoursbut of a different sort. Nicolo Polo would reclaim the family villa from which he had wandered to far-off places fifteen years before. A stranger to his son and the horde of relatives who encroached on his Venetian property, he would have to prove his owner's rights and evict the unwanted tenants, perhaps forcibly.

Marco's boyish dreams that night could hold no foreknowledge of the way in which the other, more terrible invasion would propel young Valentina Fezzio de Cortivanni from her comfortable provincial life into Venice and the world of the Polos. Even as the young man sighed in his sleep, Valentina was being roused from her own innocent slumber by the quiet desperation of a mother who fears for her young.

"Valentina! Valentina, wake up! We must go quickly, quickly. Oh, my poor darling, how you shiver! But I have no time for a softer awakening." The woman's voice sharpened as her daughter struggled with sleep, "Fah, girl, will you not leave sleep behind? If you do not, and quickly, you will soon know the longer, darker sleep of death. Come, and tread quietly!"

Valentina, shocked into rude wakefulness by such strange words, struggled into the flowing sleeves held by her mother and padded numbly behind the older woman, she still did not know where or why.

The Countess pressed her ear against the door leading to the hall, listening intently. Valentina's growing apprehension forced her from silence. "Madame, I do not understand this strangeness! Why do you . . . ?"

Tina Cortivanni hissed ferociously, "Shh! The monsters doubtless have spies within these very walls!"

Valentina's eyes, twin to her parent's large hazel ones, widened at the cryptic warning. How could this be? Her beloved Villa de Cortivanni, centuries-old home of her family and countless ancestors, harbour of spies? The word had no meaning in her sheltered existence as pampered heiress to the Cortivanni estates. Valentina Fezzio de Cortivanni's sheltered, carefree years had held no threats of monsters!

But a quick memory of recent oddities contradicted her. There had been many things of late that she had wondered at: the worried looks on Papa's usually cheerful countenance, her mother's fear on hearing unknown horsemen pounding into their courtyard, other incongruities as well. The Cortivanni Villa had always before been open and hospitable to friends and strangers alike, but lately its doors had been closed to unheralded visitors.

The girl frowned; yes, even a chit of consuming conceit like herself could not be blind to a suspicion that all had not been normal in the weeks just passed. Thus prepared for some future unpleasant happening, Valentina balked no more at this odd passage behind her mother through winding halls and up narrow steps to the servants' quarters.

But why would they come here?

"Mama . . ."

The "shh" was softer and the hand pulling Valentina into a young maid's room squeezed affectionately. "Be patient for a minute longer, love; we have no time to waste. We will talk as we dress you. Here, these will fit, I think. The girl, though a faulty servant in some ways, cannot be denied her shapeliness. Her size is much like your own, as my husband remarked only yesterday when Floria accompanied your morning ride."

Valentina's questions fluttered at her lips, but without protest she put on the maid's garb that was thrust at her. While she dressed, the Countess paced to and from the tiny window, on each return grabbing discarded garments until the peculiar toilet was complete and Valentina's own clothes were concealed.

Tina Cortivanni paused in her frenetic pacing to place a tender hand on Valentina's soft cheek, her heart aching at the innocent bewilderment on her daughter's face. "Oh, my poor darling! Do you think your mother has gone mad with the vapours of old women? Ah, if only it were that which causes me to amaze you with these bizarre doings!" She gave a great sigh and sat on Floria's bed, patting the spot beside her. "Come . . . sit beside me, if only for the short time we have left to us together. Hear me out, with not a word or question, as there is only one way for you to live through this horror, and I hereby command you to it." Her voice turned tender, maternal. "Trust me, my daughter; your father and I have lately kept our heads working on the best plan should our worst dread come to passas it has."

Valentina blinked back tears, fear of what she would learn silencing her. A brave smile wavered uncertainly, though it could have easily given way to childish tears. The Countess did not miss the valiant self-control in her daughter, and thought with new hope, She is stronger than we thought; perhaps she will survive after all!

But there was no time for compliments on newfound courage; the Countess must speak plainly of the dangers surrounding them. "Valentina, at this very moment the villa is under threat of siege by those who battle not for valour, but for the prize to be gained. The attack is cowardly, as we are helpless, but these monsters love poor odds and will not be stopped by cries of 'unjust!' "

Valentina turned white. "I . . . I heard talk among the servants about the encroachment on Papa's land by a greedy lord who would own all that property which adjoins his."

A grim smile touched the Countess' lips. "And since the most high Duke of Padua has long increased his boundaries by foul means, there is little hope he will be satisfied with less than the entirety of estates between him and the sea!" She shook her head. "No, beloved. I will give you a villain, but it is not the Duke or his men this time. Ironically, it is the mercenaries we ourselves hired for protection against the Duke and his armies who threaten us! The mercenary leader, Volcar, has incited mindless men whose only purpose is war to rise against us." Valentina would have wept now for reasons other than fear. How could she have spent her recent days in stupid pasttimes while her poor parents worried about how to stave off disaster? But the tears did not come; the time for all childishness like weeping was put behind her.

''Mama, I still do not understand why Volcar and his men, whom Papa himself hired to help us, would turn against us."

Tina Cortivanni started the nervous pacing again. "Your question is valid, daughter! The rub of it is that the soldiers were not paid their wages." She stopped to put her hand atop Valentina's red-gold head. "I read the next question in your face, darling! You would know why your Papa, who has vast holdings, would short such men of their pay. Well, the coin for these war dogs must be of such stuff that men can clink in their pockets, and this caused our trouble. The gold was coming by trusted messenger from Venice, from your father's secret coffers there." A jewelled hand stroked her white brow as though to erase the memory. "They never came through the villa gates, Valentina, neither the gold nor the bearer."

"Perhaps Papa's messenger succumbed to temptation over the gold within his reach and went far from here with the riches." Valentina was fast learning that men acted violently when gold was at stake.

How sad that one so young, so innocent, should be forced overnight into cynicism! But the Countess reflected regretfully that Valentina's new bent toward toughness would serve her well in future hardships. "It could have been, but we have strong reason to think that Salvi was murdered by Volcar."

"Then why did Volcar not take the gold stolen from our courier and leave satisfied?" The Countess' smile was bitter. "Well you should ask that! But this mercenary Volcar is covetous of more than gold. He only stole it to give false justice to the attack on our house." She hesitated, but went on, realizing her beautiful daughter must know more of what motivated evil such as Volcar's. "I saw the burning covetousness in those terrible eyes when Volcar first came to speak with your father. How he stared at our halls, our treasures and . . . all else owned by my highborn husband." Her eyes lifted to Valentina's and the girl saw there the repulsion that her mother must have felt to be lusted after by a lowborn mercenary. "Thank God I kept you from his gaze deliberately! My worst mistake was not sharing my distrust of the man with your father."

Valentina shuddered, feeling as though Volcar had entered the room, bringing his evil. She whispered, "Why, why did Papa not gather us all before now and help us flee this horrible man and his soldiers?"

The Countess kissed her daughter's worried forehead with great tenderness. "Do not blame your father for this danger, my daughter. He feels, as I do, that no Cortivanni will flee ancestral home to escape the likes of scum like Volcar!" Her voice rang with such strong pride as to make Valentina realize why her family had prospered so long.

"However," the Countess went on, more calmly, "we have hopes yet of saving ourselves. Your father sent another emissary to Venice for more gold, and this time we know it will not be intercepted! These mercenaries, except for their leader, listen to money talk more avidly than to war talk. Your father will assure them of his intention to pay in full."

Valentina was not fooled that the words held more truth than comfort, but she did not dispute them. Her pride rose to match that of her brave parents; she held out a fold of her poorly made skirt and asked scornfully, "Would you have me stand next to the lord and lady of this house in this?"

A shadow passed over her mother's fine features. "It is best that Volcar not see you, nor know your whereabouts. You are very beautiful, Valentina." The sudden image of how this budding young exquisiteness before her would affect the lustful Volcar made her blood run cold. After all, Countess Cortivanni herself was long past youth, and yet how his scorching eyes had shamed her womanhood! "It is best that you hide here within the maid Floria's closet." She opened the tiny door and tucked her daughter in among the sparse clothes and boxes which formed the tenant's possessions, and looked at the trembling girl with eyes large and sad.

"Let out no sound, my daughter, no matter who comes here. Your father and I can face our enemies more strongly knowing the name of Cortivanni and its bloodline will survive through your courage and will to outlive the dark hours ahead." She turned to leave, hoping her daughter had not seen the tears glistening in her eyes.

Valentina was filled with despair and grasped at another moment with the woman who, she sensed bleakly, would be lost to her forever when the closet door closed. "Mama! You have not told me: if I hide as Floriawho does, I confess, have similar appearance to my ownwhere is she?"

The Countess had regained her composure and could smile almost wickedly. "Such an adventuress the girl is! She pretended to have love for your clothes and the gold I promised, but I sense the masquerade holds a challenge which pleases her. The girl's air of gentility would fool Volcar in an instant, and there are other . . . factors." How could the Countess tell her innocent daughter that Floria had an open love for carnal pursuits that belied her airs? How the maid had laughed at her mistress' stumbling warnings of what the reversal of identities might entail!

"Oh, Madame, don't worry about my safety in these matters! Be sure I can handle any man, once we're on an equal basisand I hope you understand what I mean, my lady!" Tina Cortivanni had understood very well.

"My dear friend, your pretty daughter, would fare poorly at the hands of these ruffians, if it came to that, but I can come out on top with men of Volcar's sort any day!" And she had laughed at her own double meaning.

Yes, Floria would be fine, the Countess knew. She took a deep breath before giving her daughter a final warning. "Valentina, hide my seal ring in your boot, and promise me with your life's breath that you will never reveal to any person your real birth until you are well away from these provinces! The truest ally can betray when it is thought to be for gain!" Her voice gave way in this final moment. "Oh, my love, if only we had not worried about the same thing happening to you as befell Salvior worse!we would have sent you away from these treacherous folds!"

"Mama!"

Generations of aristocracy steeled the maternal tones. "Swear to me, daughter: you will trust no one. No one!"

The girl repeated in barely audible tones her mother's oath.

"I swear. On my love of you and PapaI swear!"

The Countess lingered long enough to store within her heart a last long look at her beloved child's face, praying that somehow, by some miracle, her daughter would survive this hideous nightmare. She then pushed a heavy chest to the door concealing her cherished cache and went to stand beside her husband in this most desperate hour of their life together.

It was a final kindness to Valentina that had kept her from telling the already frightened girl that, even as they talked, the courtyard below was filling with cursing, rough-bearded mercenaries who cut down with dreadful efficiency the few servants who braved the oncoming horde of death-mongers.

And Valentina cowered in her cramped hiding place, not knowing that already the villa stones were being drenched with the blood of the innocent.

A few miles away from where Valentina hid in terror, the man who had hoped to rescue her father from his hardships cursed the haste that had made him leave escort behind and his horse catch a crippling stone. He dismounted, knowing his weight added to that of the bag of gold on the saddle was too much for the limping horse.

Leading the burdened animal, Ghia D'Angelo squinted against the rising dawn. The new light aided his passage through an unfamiliar path, but at the same time it told of his lateness in the mission set him by Don Cortivanni's unexpected request.

There was nothing he could do to speed his pace; he let his thoughts wander back to how he came to be dispatched from Venice. The Don's communication had been a shock, coming as it had from one who had severed connections with D'Angelo's own father years before, but D'Angelo did not once consider turning down the proud old man's plea:

"I can trust no one else, D'Angelo, and though there has been friction between our families, I still turn to the son of my old associate for help. Will you secretly dispatch to me the amounts of gold noted on my enclosed charges to my accounts? I dare not use another man from my villa, as these walls have apparently been infiltrated. A known messenger would only be killed and robbed as was the first.

"There is more I would ask of you, and this concerns something more precious than gold. You have never known our daughter, Valentina, but her mother and I would have her protected from future plaguing by the Duke and his forces, and, alas, from her own lively nature! The child is exquisite, bright and alarmingly headstrong; I will not charge you with responsibility for her character and morals, as this would be unfair to you (perhaps that formidable aunt of yours could see to those aspects of Valentina), but I do ask that you protect her holdings and oversee her material comforts.

"I cannot wait for your assent to this bargain, D'Angelo, as my wife and I deal with mercenaries grown surlier each day they are unpaid. If by some decree of fate the gold again fails its mark, be assured this beloved villa will be my last fortress and that none shall cause me to leave it! So be it.

"I will go to my grave in your debt, my friend. Take care."

D'Angelo could not trust the job to another. He felt he owed Don Cortivanni the respect of being personal courier in such a serious task.

He would not admit to a deep curiosity about the young woman whose life might very well soon tangle with his own, but he gave much thought to the implications of such a guardianship. For lack of company, he mused aloud,

"She would be no inconvenience to my household, as the house I gave my aunt and uncle is sizeable . . . and certainly the girl will not burden me financially, as she will come well-fixed. How wise of the Don to be so quiet in removing many tangible holdings to his offices in Venice, there to be safe from this Duke of Padua's far-reaching avarice!"

D'Angelo's respect was gained, too, by the list of accounts showing Valentina's worth; her father had swelled Cortivanni coffers remarkably over the past few years!

There was another side to this coin as well: the girl might possibly relieve D'Angelo of much of the pressure placed on his widowed state. His aunt would be too involved with this willful young beauty to keep reminding him that he was in need of a wife more real than the ghost of the late Lady D'Angelo. In fact . . .

But the tiny seed of speculation was premature; D'Angelo frowned and sped up his pace. If he did not make haste to reach the Villa before Volcar and his bloodthirsty jackals, the girl might not even be alive!

Valentina Fezzio de Cortivanni in truth was not among the dead and dying at the house Ghia D'Angelo sought, though everywhere about the great hall lay grisly proof that Don Cortivanni had been unsuccessful in his attempt to avert the attack. Those servants who had rushed to the defense of their liege when he had fallen pierced through by Volcar's spear, lay maimed or dead.

Volcar, with mien and tread of conqueror in his rough clothes that oddly suited his golden beard and piercing eyes, cursed when he slipped in the blood, but he paid the dying no other heed. His eyes were on the woman who watched his approach with dark, fearless eyes. She, staunch aristocrat that she was, fought the sickness that her grief and the stench of blood brought, and gave Volcar back stare for stare.

The man stopped before her where she lay next to the body of her husband, her hands trussed above her golden head. Something in the unfaltering gaze momentarily confused the mercenaries' leader, and he kicked at the lifeless Don lying next to her, exposing the sharp blade which had penetrated the dead man's back. Countess Cortivanni closed her eyes in agony, restoring her tormentor's confidence. He laughed jubilantly and shouted to an underling who stood guard nearby: "Idiot! Will you stand there like a statue until I tell you everything that must be done? A hall with half-wounded is a hall half-conquered. Put the rest of these devils out of their misery; I tire of their mewling." He turned back to taunt his captive, who suffered silently at the agonized calls of faithful servants who were being put to final sword as their executioner had ordered. "The death-dealer comes your way, M'Ladyor would you have me save him for after were passed more pleasant time together?"

He laughed when the Countess turned her face away, then caught her braid in one dark hand, unsheathing his knife with the other. "Do you think you can close Volcar out of your sight like a speck of dirt that offends your arrogant view?" The man moved so swiftly the woman could only gasp; he cut the golden braid with a swift stroke and threw the gleaming lock carelessly over her husband's sightless face, grinning as the Countess gasped. "A small remembrance for his highness, Contessa; he can take it with him into the land of vultures. Hey, hey, what have we here? He'll not be needing this where he's going!" Volcar's gleaming eyes had fallen upon the huge family seal which the dead man wore as a ring. A quick tug and the heavy gilded trinket was on his own finger. He admired it on his hand, holding it out to the Countess.

"There . . . do you think it becomes me as well as it did my porkish predecessor? What do you say, woman? Speak! Am I not now as fine as your lord?" He leaned close to Tina, his hand with the ring going to stroke the soft shoulder.

She spat at him, "Scum can be no better than scum no matter how many rings they steal! Spare me this dialogue between us, as it sickens me. Take my life, as you have already taken all else I hold dear."

Volcar touched the creamy breast which swelled above the lace of Tina's gown, and the woman shivered in repulsion. "But not quite, cara mia. I have not yet enjoyed your most intimate hospitality. Though perhaps not so ripe and young as the daughter my men bound to await my leisure, your face and body promise sweet ecstasies that women of your station often reveal in secret to real men like myself."

The Countess gave him a look of boundless loathing. "You honour yourself, Volcar. The only real men in this room lie murdered. I can do nothing to protect my daughter; she will forgive me if I beg our mutual tormentor for execution."

Volcar's anger rose at the disgust on his captive's face. "You will get your desire, great ladyafter I have suited my whim to see what fires burn in an aristocrat's loins." He ripped Tina's gown in one movement and loosened his own clothes, but before he could thrust himself onto her, Countess Cortivanni made a mighty heave sideways, impaling herself on the point of steel that protruded from her husband's body.

Volcar stood transfixed at the spectacle of the two dead nobles fastened, on the same spear, not understanding how a woman delicately born could actively seek such a fate. He laughed nervously, for benefit of the gawking man who still stood guard. "Two for the price of one, eh, Goudo? A shame the spear is not longer; we could have stuck the whole roomful without bloodying our short swords!" He cast one last regretful look at the now peaceful beauty which would never feel the depth of his manhood. "Fah! The daughter will be juicier meat anyway!"

He strode off toward the kitchen where his men had begun revelling; his passion could wait. He had more need now of the Cortivanni wine than its women.

Far above the kitchen, which now housed far less gentle activities than it was used to under Cortivanni rule, Valentina lay still, near fainting at the boisterous voices which seemed to fill the closet with her.

The soldiers seemingly had not noticed the chest being awry, nor the door it concealed. They passed Valentina's hiding place so close she held her breath while listening to the rough words:

"These women would not stay for the sport we could give them, eh, Corti? This one must have used that knotted rope to escape us. Why, the little fox even left her signs of escape!" Valentina nearly wept at this sign of her mother's cunning protectiveness. Only someone clever as the Countess would think to make it seem the room's occupant had escaped, ending need for further search!

There were sounds of the rope being retrieved; so much for any prospect of actual escape via Tina's rope! The men dawdled, though Valentina prayed silently for their leaving. "What do you say, Dorto? Shall we tell Volcar we go to scour the woods for a frightened little hen who flies her coop at the approach of the hunters?"

The other man seemed disinterested. "Do as you will, Igo. I myself have no wish for beating the bushes for a scared peasant who is no doubt ugly and dried up as the ones below Volcar had us kill." Valentina's heart leapt in horror; Kill? But surely they spoke of underlings only. Not even Volcar would kill the aristocrats in whose hire he came . . .

But her heart, growing tough to new lessons, told her this man respected no one, even as her ears received proof:

''If you dawdle in this pigeon-hole longer, Igo, Volcar himself will have used the young yellow-haired woman we hold for his pleasure. He was fearfully angry at the death of the older one!"

"These high-horns have strange ways, Cortilike the woman choosing quick death at another point than Volcar's famous body spear! Did you see 'em? Spitted like a pair of doves, the two fine nobles were! But, here, let us get to the wine, Dorto. At least there's plenty of that for all of us."

The raucous laughter of the men hid the choking gasp from the closet. It was fortunate that the men left the room when they did, as Valentina's anguish no longer could be stifled at this news of her orphanage.

She lay crumpled in sorrow, not knowing for how long, while, below, Volcar arose unsteadily from his place among the drunken revellers. He held high the goblet Countess Cortivanni had brought to her marriage feast and boasted, "I have enjoyed the fruits of our noble hosts' vineyards!" He bowed drunkenly in the direction of the hall where the Cortivannis stiffened; "And now I am off to taste of the fruits of their loins!" Upon the leering shouts of encouragement from his troops, he took his leave.

"Do not rend that pretty gown, Volcar! It would do for my woman back home!"

"Ask the maiden if she will swap an hour of her charms for this fancy candlestick!" One soldier waved the heavy bronze piece that was as old as the villa. More laughter erupted when another shouted ribaldly, "Do you doubt our mighty Volcar has his own candlestick at the ready?"

"Hey, Volcar! When first you planned this set-to, after you said Don Cortivanni would never pay us, you promised we would share all spoils equally!"

Their leader paused at the door to grin back at his cohorts. "Louts, would you have me carve those sweet limbs into thirty pieces?"

"If you did, it would not surprise us which part would fall to our mighty leader!"

Volcar left amid the uproar.

His high mirth vanished not half an hour later, when he rolled off the shapely body of the young woman whom he thought to be daughter to the highblooded Countess he'd coveted so long. "Fah! You have put the lie to those dead parents, girl. If my whoring mother was a virgin, so, too, are you!"

Floria, who lay beside him with her ripe body still loosed from Valentina's fine clothes, was quick-witted as well as lusty. Knowledge that her life as a counterfeit Valentina promised longer than a mere servant's made her haughty acting come easily. She pulled her neck cloth over her full breasts and asked icily, "Do you think only knaves and servants have love rights? That blue blood runs less passionately through the high-born's veins than through the peasant's? As with my mother and all Cortivanni women, the bloom was full and early when it came to me."

She could see from the corner of her eye that Volcar paid heed; she allowed more tearful sorrow into her portrayal. "Cruel as you played us, murdering my dear mother and father and our servants, I take solace in knowing this shame will not be known to any but we two."

Volcar let his strange eyes play over her body, his temper forgotten in renewed lust at sight of Floria's inviting nakedness. "Girl, but for our parentage, I would think we had the same fires!" He reached for the maid, pulling her to him roughly. "Come, to it again. You being no novice as I'd thought, it will be true sport this time!"

The girl escaped, squirming and squealing, for the door, where an impassioned Volcar recaptured her and carried her, biting and scratching, back to bed. Floria was clever about men, as Tina had known; she knew that for men like Volcar, violence was a necessary part of lust.

This theory proved true. The mercenary's passion built quickly in response to the girl's show of fright. He threw her ungently onto Valentina's once-chaste bed and was quickly atop her. The gold-bearded face was soon growling into milky breasts and soft throat, a savage maleness was ground between tender thighs.

Ghia D'Angelo stood atop the hill overlooking the Villa Cortivanni, his keen eyes assessing the scene before him. Dead men, confusion amongst riding stockall the signs foretold him that disaster had preceded him into the house he'd hoped to save.

D'Angelo waited for a moment to control the deep sorrow he was feeling at the thought of this needless tragedy. If only Don Cortivanni had asked for help sooner!

But the noble was not a man to dwell upon what might have been. He set out briskly down the hill with the faint hope that perhaps some might still be saved from butchery.

To stride unannounced into the villa would mean sure death; D'Angelo clattered loudly as he approached with his limping steed. He stopped at the front steps, turning his horse so that the bag of gold showed plainly. "Ahoy there, fellow!" The guard who bounded forth with bared sword was held at bay by the noble's air of authority. "Go tell Volcar I would see him, that we might pull a bargain together from this confusion."

The guard eyed the man suspiciously, his sharp eyes scouring the woods behind D'Angelo for signs of henchmen. "You are very brave, or very foolish, to come here, Noble! Who are you, that our leader would wish to bargain with your like?"

D'Angelo spoke confidently, though he did not know how long the fellow's limited brain would stay his sword hand. "Say to him that I did not come to pass judgment on his or his men's deeds, but to pay Don Cortivanni's true debts to the army."

The man vanished when he saw D'Angelo fingering a gold-piece from the sack at his side. He soon reappeared with Volcar, who still worried the ties at his tunic's waist. D'Angelo, when he first looked upon Volcar, saw that here was a man who was not concerned only with booty. There were complexities here that must be dealt with gingerly.

Volcar spoke harshly, making his own quick assessment of his visitor. "You have served your colleague badly coming so late, Noble. The debt was well past due and was called." He waved a long arm over the courtyard and steps with their tragic story. "Tell me if you do not see here that Don Cortivanni has at last paid his debt to his mercenaries!"

D'Angelo noticed that men were stealing out to listen, many openly eying the gold and whispering among themselves. If the scoundrels did not simply fall upon him and take the gold, he could use their obvious avarice. He knew instinctively the mercenaries did not share their leader's complex ambitions.

"The dearest price! But I still am charged to pay these men the wages owed them! Like any landholder, I mourn the lengths to which your sense of mistreatment has led you, but since it is the law of our provinces that agreements with hired armies are sacred, my thoughts are not of retribution."

Volcar's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he was as aware as D'Angelo that the men around them were showing deep interest in the noble's proposition. "You said 'bargain'; where do you lead?"

D'Angelo longed to ask after the Cortivannis, but dared not veer from his course. "The castle must not be razed, its possessions must be returned, all dead will be buried, and any who is still living within these walls will be freed and not further harmed."

Volcar grinned wolfishly. "And if I decide this house and all in it suits me better than the coin you dangle?" But the grumbles that arose from amongst the mercenaries made him hasten to press D'Angelo, "Why should we not simply relieve you of your golden burden, at the same time keeping our hard-fought spoils?"

D'Angelo kept his words calm, knowing he was at the crisis point. "Because you would then have to kill meand the other provincial lords who know of my mission here would not give hire to these men you would speak for. They would soon be hard-pressed to find work here or in any other Venetian province."

Volcar looked around at the faces turned on him and knew D'Angelo spoke the truth. He knew, too, that the mercenaries did not care for long-lasting gains; their army work was the only life well-designed for these restless spirits, and Volcar would do well not to endanger future hire!

He was beaten and both men knew it. D'Angelo had a new enemy. He knew that, too.

But for now the danger was past. "Our bargain holds then, from this moment. Are there any living still who bear the Cortivanni name?"

Volcar's eyes gleamed in spiteful triumph. "Only one poor orphan who awaits just inside." He reached behind the door and hauled a dishevelled Floria to stand beside him. "She, alas, is alone in the worldthough perhaps she will not be after nine months! I gave her more than one chance to replace departed Cortivannis with new, half-blooded ones!"

The soldiers guffawed and Floria would have struck Volcar, but he caught her flailing fists and flung her at D'Angelo's boots. "There's your bargain, Noble; take the whore for your gold and any horses, and know what a sorry agreement you've made! The girl is fortunate she will have wealth to take to her marriage bed, as that is all of value she retains!"

D'Angelo fought back his anger at seeing one who came from noble stock being thus humiliated. "The girl will outdistance her forced shame, which she does not deserve, she being innocent of her father's debts. Is this the remaining life, save yourselves, at this villa, then?"

Volcar smirked. "It is, Noble. Do you wish to back out of the agreement we made? It will only cost you your life."

D'Angelo again struggled with anger, but knew it would suffice him nothing. The girl rudely flung at him was finally noticed; her fingers tugging at his sleeve were persistent and he turned to look into the pretty, anxious face. "What is it, Contessa?"

The title startled the girl for a moment, but she said excitedly, "Kind sir, there is one other who, like myself, escaped death. It is Floria, my mother's maid, who concealed herself in a secret hiding place while the soldiers searched our rooms."

Volcar's face turned dark. He whirled on Dorto and Igo, whose faces showed complete surprise, and spat furiously, "You bleary-eyed idiots! I thought my orders were that not even a rodent-hole should escape your search! Have you lost all skills for soldiering?"

Floria had a triumph of her own at this point; D'Angelo hoped her taunts did not undo his careful arbitrations. "So the great Volcar has not won every battle! You are not the only sly one in these provinces, mercenary! My father foresaw how cruelly you would treat the young maid we speak of, and made provisions for her survival!" She turned back to her benefactor. "Please, sire, can we not go at once to rescue this poor servant girl, who even now must be frightened to wit's end?"

D'Angelo and Volcar both stared at her, the soldier voicing the question on both minds. "Girl, you nobles act strangely under siege. I thought it strange enough that your mother should choose death's point over minebut this news that the old man contrived to hide a servant and not his daughter . . . ! Aie, it bewilders me."

Floria did her finest dissembling. She drew her slender body straight and proud and said in coldest tones, "We Cortivannis do not hide from peasant scum!"

D'Angelo hastily interceded. "Enough of that for now, young Mistress! It will, of course, be necessary for you to be accompanied by your maid, as I have no entourage." He bowed to Volcar, for all the world as though they were both gentleman completing business together in a Venetian salon. "Will you, sir, attend to the retrieval of this young woman servant, who does not, you must confess, increase the value of my end of this trade a great deal?" Volcar shrugged. "It is done. I certainly have no wish for bedding a scared rabbit who lacks even the courage to stand with her master and mistress." He barked at Corti and Igo, who went quickly to find the girl who'd outfoxed them. "And do not tarry or maul the wench! I have made my deal with this silver-tongued highborn and have a strong wish to be free of him and his raggle-taggle crew forever."

True to Floria's information as to where the girl was hidden, the soldiers soon returned with their captive in tow.

D'Angelo looked upon the girl with sinking heart, wondering how Volcar would react to find such a plum slipping from his grasp, for the girl was as beautiful and appealing as any he had laid eyes upon, servant or noblewoman, even in her cheap servant's garb.

Volcar, counting out the gold D'Angelo had pressed upon him, turned to see why all had grown quiet about the courtyard. Upon setting eyes on this vision, the coins slipped from his fingers unnoticed.

Valentina stood there blinking in the dazzling light. Then, as though something outside her own power forced her, she looked straight into Volcar's eyes. Her gasp was involuntary; never had she faced such a penetrating gaze nor such a threatening presence. The sun rays set the gold beard on fire, as it had her own red-gold hair, and Valentina felt dazedly as though she were staring into a hot blaze.

She turned her eyes to the other man, who watched from the shadow of his horse, and there was shocked as well. The noble's face, unguarded for once, was full of astonished admiration and desire which were almost as frightening as what she'd seen in Volcar.

She struggled to regain her presence and let out a tortuously-held breath. Floria's eyes warned her and Valentina put all her effort into the meek, servant-like voice that squeaked like the mouse everyone thought her: "Good sir, I beg of you to have mercy on me! I am nobody to be counted as dangerous; my young mistress will vouch for it!"

The spell was broken, though D'Angelo, like Volcar, could not stop staring at the girl's exquisite face framed by her extraordinary hair. "Do not worry, little Miss, as we have arranged for your release to the young Countess and myself."

Volcar, all else forgotten but this dazzling creature, stepped forward. "Had I known such glory wilted in a dark closet, I would have torn this house down stone by stone until I found you, little fox!"

Valentina shrank back from the hand which reached out to caress a tress of hair, then turned ghost-white at the sight of her father's seal ring on his enemy's finger. "You . . . you wear his ring, murderer!" She felt the stones slipping from beneath her in the strong wave of repugnance at this last insult to her pent-up grief. Floria rushed to catch her before she fell.

Volcar's face went black with new suspicion; Floria said quickly, to gain time, "You frighten her, Volcar, with your glares and rough words. The maid is weak from fear and cramps at her confinement!"

The mercenary sharply addressed the girl, who under the maid's ministrations was recovering from her swoon, "You react greatly to sight of this ring, Miss! I find it odd that even a simple rabbit like yourself should shrink at sight of her master's jewel upon another's finger. Unless . . ." His eyes narrowed; ". . . unless that master meant more to her in life than the ordinary master!"

Valentina's eyes met Floria's in meaningful glance. The girl stammered as though shy about the matter. "I . . . I cannot so easily dishonour the lady who lies dead beside my master . . ."

The nimble-witted Floria followed the drift and stepped forward, between Volcar and his trembling target, again summoning her borrowed arrogance. "Mercenary, if you had the intelligence and breeding born to him who wore that ring rightfully, you'd not pry so cruelly into the nature of my father's feelings for this girl! Only look at her! Even I, his daughter and my mother's offspring, can understand how a man would have special feelings for this hireling." Floria, her ringing scorn convincing to Valentina's ears as much as the others', eyed the ring of soldiers about her. "I had hoped not to have my father's weaknesses aired here. Enough has been done to his memory already!"

Volcar chuckled, believing of any man what he himself would do under similar circumstances. "So, little pigeon!" He lifted Valentina's pale chin to more closely devour the soft beauty with his burning eyes. "You warmed the old man's bed! I gain new respect for his good tastethough I would kill him ten times over for having you as his own guarded jewel!"

D'Angelo knew they must leave now, or not at all. "Mistress Valentina, the day shortens, and we have far to go before nightfall." The noble set himself to choosing horses for the women, as he could no longer bear the naked looks of desire the mercenary kept casting toward the young maid.

He led two lean-shanked mares to the steps and made to lift Valentina to her mount, but Volcar stepped quickly to the task. D'Angelo, helping Floria onto her horse, did not miss the way Volcar's strong hands lingered at the girl's tiny waist, nor how the full lips touched the silken hair swinging over his face as the girl was heaved astride her horse. He strained jealously to hear what Volcar murmured in parting.

''We will meet again, little fox! And next time do not think the deepest burrow or a noble's gold will keep you from me!" He reluctantly let go the girl's reins, and watched the three make their careful ascent up the hill to the high roads.

Valentina was to have haunting dreams of the look in those terrible eyes for many long nights.

D'Angelo had hopes of reaching the safety of the inn he'd used on his way, but the women were exhausted from their day's ravages and had little wind for the final leg of the day's journey. Floria, ever alert to the moods of others, saw D'Angelo was not happy over the proposed rest.

"Sire, we will push on after a bit of respite, if you say it is best. But my poor maid seems near falling off her horse, and my bones, too, complain of their misuse."

D'Angelo shook his head. "Thank you for your offer of further endurance, Mistress, but of course we must rest. Forgive an old hare's habit of wanting to shed the dust of the hunter's preserve!"

Floria scanned the man's lean form and half-young visage with practiced feminine assessment. "You call yourself 'old' prematurely, sir! Though your considerable handsomeness is greatly exaggerated by my gratitude for today's heroic deeds!"

D'Angelo could not answer the compliment, for he had to rush to catch the real Valentina, who had tumbled in a pitiful heap when she dismounted. The man felt new anger that Volcar had held these same delicate charms only hours beforeas had his old associate Cortivanni, and who knew what others?

The thought made his arms tighten around the girl as he lifted her to a soft pile of leaves nearby. "There, Miss. We rest a few hours, your mistress and I, too, before we travel onward. None can bother you here!"

Before closing the fabulously lashed eyes, the girl gave D'Angelo a smile that could make him run through a thousand mercenaries, if need be!

Damn Cortivanni for his lechery! But D'Angelo's anger was mixed with relief that at least his father's old friend had seen to it the girl was protected from Volcar. He stalked off to keep watch, not seeing Floria's knowing smiles at his stiff reminder to her that they had little time to sleep and would be foolish to waste it. The maid had not missed the little tableau just now and mused regretfully, "A shame the rich noble is already smitten with my real mistress; apity, too, that I myself am not the authentic Valentina!"

Floria would not mind at all having this D'Angelo warming her sheets.

An idea unworthy of her crept into her thoughts: she stared through the darkness to where Valentina slept, her own churning speculations keeping sleep from her own eyes.

These were familiar woods to Floria. The woodcutter who had beseeched to marry him lived not many miles away.

Suppose she led Valentina into the wood, on some pretext or other, and lost her, to be found by wild animals or Volcar's men. She could tell D'Angelo the girl had fled, frightened into stupidity, into the night. . . . D'Angelo, enamoured though he might be, would never jeopardize an equal's safety by staying to search for a mere peasant who could mean nothing by his final reckoning.

Floria dreamed on. How well she had loved her brief role as aristocrat, even with Volcar's cruel use of her. And who was to know she was not truly Valentina? In Venice, the real heiress was unknown, and any lack of grace on the pretender's part would be attributed to provincial rearing!

Floria bit her lip and thought and thought . . . then, with characteristic quickness of decision, she rose to her feet and stole to where Valentina lay soundly sleeping. "Valentina, wake up. Shh! Do not cry outhe sleeps as well." The girl sat up, terrified that her nightmare was starting all over again, with her mother whispering in her ear to hurry.

"Floria! Oh, Floria, it's you! Has . . . has Volcar come after us?" Her eyes glistened with revived dread.

"No . . . no. The mercenary would not dare come for you now, as his men heard his promise to D'Angelo. But we must not let the noble overhear us. Listen, my love; listen to your Floria for the last time. I must part reluctantly with youand an unworthy dreamthis very night."

"Dream?" Valentina was fully awake now, hearing a new note of seriousness in the other girl's voice that had not been there before, not even during the recent deadly charade. "Floria, you confuse me with talk of dreams! Think only of the reality of reaching Venice with me; there you will be paid your gold and made my most honored friend! I will have properties, moneyPapa assured me of it! We will share all and always equally."

Floria put a tender hand on the soft shoulder. "Contessa, there is nothing for it but that I leavequickly, before the baser instincts this playacting has jogged take over my love for you. Hear me, Miss, as I reveal the weakness I never knew I had till tonight! It is tempting for the maid to stay mistress, Valentina; I have it in me! I will go now, before it is too late."

Valentina said nothing, but gave her friend a warm hug which made Floria want to weep for her near-betrayal. "Poor dear, you only speak honestly about a madness caused by our nightmares of the past few hours. I, too, have had strange thoughts! But, Floria, stayI would have you always near me as a trusted friend!"

Floria's smile was sad in the moonlight. "Friend? A maid friend to a Countess in Venice society? No, Valentina, that is not the way of things, as you will soon find in your new home. If I come to you someday, I will make no claims on your special gratitude nor on our secret bond of friendship."

Valentina whispered tremulously, "What of the gold my mother promised you, dear Floria?"

The other girl pulled away. "It will be collected another time, after the days have shaken themselves back into some form of lunacy. Perhaps by then my mad impulses for unearned splendor will have vanished, leaving me the maid I must content myself to be."

Valentina forced a bright smile onto her face. "Perhaps by then you will have found someone to take care of you, as you have always taken care of the Cortivannis!"

Her friend grinned at her in the old manner. "Who would wish for a pet cat with nothing but teeth and claws? Farewell, Valentina." With a wave, the girl was gone, leading her horse stealthily into the thicket.

Valentina stared after her till the disappearing figure was only a memory, then remembered the problem that Floria's desertion had brought. "D'Angelo! He thinks I am the maid, Floria, and no one is here to say otherwise! He has no call to believe only me!" The answer was clear: she must reveal herself to him at once!

But her mother had made her swear not to reveal her true identity. And suppose D'Angelo, though seemingly heroic, was part of a devious plan in collusion with Volcar to make her confess her identity?

Her resolve to stay quiet remained firm; her mother's wisdom had upheld her till now. She would keep her promise. Valentina settled back to her grassy cot, staring sleeplessly at the first sign of dawn. Soon, now, there would be questions from D'Angelo which she must prepare to deal with.

She pretended to be asleep when he sounded the expected alarm; then sat up, rubbing her eyes and acting as befuddled as he already thought her. "What is that, sire? The lady is gone? Gone from here in the night, though neither of us heard her leave?" D'Angelo seemed about to go off looking for their lost member and Valentina hastily improvised. Striking her forehead as though just remembering, she howled, "Oh, I must cuff my brain into recall, my lord. How could I forget till now? The Countess whispered at me, though I thought then it was part of a dream, that she was afraid Volcar would come upon us here and that she must travel on to safer parts."

D'Angelo stared at the girl in disbelief. "A woman of her breeding chose to ride on alone? Come, minx; there must be more to this than what you tell me. I have known gently raised heiresses all my life and have never known one who would brave a strange journey without escort!"

Valentina retorted hotly, "Do not confuse provincially-reared women with your pretty salon flowers, Noble! The Countess Valentina de Cortivanni would brave any danger to escape further misuse from one such as Volcar!" She added lamely, seeing that her companion was staring at her as though amazed at the new spirit in a supposedly meek servant girl, "Besides, the lady has kin in a villa not far from here."

This made sense to D'Angelo; to Valentina's relief he appeared to believe her. But he asked drily as he helped her mount, "If is not too much to ask, why in God's name did you not wake me? We could all have ridden together!"

Valentina held out her hand for her reins, but D'Angelo held them fast, waiting for an answer. "I . . . I thought it was a dream, sire; truly I did! And . . . and, besides . . ." She let a shy dimple appear at the corner of her mouth; " . . . I think my mistress did not quite trust you, Lord D'Angelo, and feared to remain with one who might betray her."

D'Angelo cursed softly and mounted his own horse. "The little fool . . . the little fool!"

Valentina looked at him slyly. "Think on it, sire; you were unknown to us all when you came striding in with your ransom; not many would face Volcar as you did, alone, without henchmen! The bargain made was smooth and without scuffle; yet those with whom you dealt so sleekly had just raped and killed and robbed a whole houseful!" Valentina's voice trembled on the last; she turned her face away from D'Angelo's searching gaze.

He deliberately put his hand over hers when he gave her the reins to her horse. "I begin to sense that your beauty holds more substance than most maids', little one. No wonder my father's old friend took such care of you!" He leaned over, so that his face was inches from Valentina's. "Tell me, sweet Floria; do you distrust me as well as your mistress? Or do you find your heart as full of mad excitement as my own to find the two of us alone on this road to Venice?" Valentina stared into the worldly eyes which held so much of the mystery between men and womena mystery that she was only beginning to have a frightening, exciting knowledge of. "I . . . I cannot answer either question, my lord, as to do so would only make me more vulnerable to your whimsyou being highborn, and I being a maid." With that, the girl spurred her horse to a speedy gallop, leaving D'Angelo far behind.

Though the man could easily have caught up to the girl, he let her have her feeedom; besides, he was enjoying the vision in front of him. Valentina's fiery gold hair streaming behind her and occasional teasing glance back to see how close he followed fired his imagination till he could think of nothing else.

The young Contessa, for her part, was finding her sadly battered heart reviving in the beautiful day and her exhilarating ride. It was as though with each length taken by her steed the tragedy and sorrow behind her receded tenfold.

There were other unexpected sensations she was experiencing in addition to her renewed joy in being alive even though her beloved parents were not, but these were more difficult to accept.

Valentina, though a grown young woman by most standards, had not had much exposure to men, except for her father and a few young provincial heirs who were as green as herself. She had never been looked at in the way both D'Angelo and Volcar had looked at her. The very thought of both men's open desire of her made her cheeks flush and her pulse race as fast as her horse.

Volcar's lust had, of course, been too evil to consider without discomfort. But D'Angelo's . . . ! To be desired so by a man of noble blood, of courageous mettle, who showed her with every glance that she was beautiful, desirable . . . exciting!

Deep, deep down in the very core of her femininity, she began to know an awareness of a special kind of power that would make the child-like Valentina of yesterday a dull person to be. When D'Angelo rode up beside her after she slowed to a walk, she looked over at him slyly, her heart pounding anew at the prospect of being admired and adored by such a man. D'Angelo glanced over and was surprised to be smiled at most coquettishly.

At the look on the noble's face, Valentina turned her own gaze back to the road ahead, wondering with warm confusion if anyoneman or woman!could ever control Lord Ghia D'Angelo in the smallest way.

D'Angelo kept his own eyes on this fascinating girl, enchanted by the occasional elusive glimpse of new and unpredictable facets of her. Never had he seen, not even in the most sophisticated drawing room in Venice, a more universally sensual delight, nor a face and body so maddeningly unself-conscious of their voluptuous appeal!

He knew he must soon make love to this beautiful girl/woman or go mad with frustrated desire.

The inn came into view and D'Angelo was reminded guiltily that their lost member had been far from his thoughts lately. He queried the waiting innkeeper as they dismounted, "Did you see a lone woman, well-horsed, pass by a few hours past? Or did she, by chance, stop with you?"

The innkeeper, who currently had little sight for any one other than the pretty thing who stood next to her master, grunted in the negative. Valentina pointed out eagerly, "Noble, it would be most unbecoming for an unchaperoned lady such as ours to abide here. I doubt she will stop for other than the strictest necessaries between here and her destination."

D'Angelo gave a heavy sigh as he gave their horses over to the innkeeper. "I grow weary of trying to think what the young woman will do! This place may not appeal to runaway countesses, but it will do for us two." The noble carefully did not look at Valentina's shocked face; he ignored as well their host's lascivious leer at her. "We'll have your two best rooms, side by side, with fires and suppers promptly laid, my good man."

The unattractive fellow showed his few remaining teeth in a poor facsimile of an apologetic smile. "That would be lovely, your highness, as I admire catering to fine gentlemen with pretty valetsif I had two rooms. But I've not."

D'Angelo said impatiently, growing irritated at the way the repulsive man kept winking and leering at Valentina, "Oh, come now, Innkeeper; the road is bare of travellers and you see before you the best customers you're like to have within the month!"

The man shook his head stubbornly. "Be you cousins to the Doge himself, I can offer no more rooms than one for yourself, Noble, and the one over the stable for your little lackey!"

Valentina made a round "o" with her mouth, knowing as well as D'Angelo what unattractive benefits would be added to her housing in quarters far from her 'master'.

D'Angelo looked dangerously at the innkeeper. "You may keep your stable room for the rats and fleas that no doubt sleep there, sir." He strode off with Valentina in tow, leaving the fellow, with his mouth drooping ludicrously, holding the travellers' horses.

Valentina would have protested, but D'Angelo found a barmaid inside and told her with his highest tones, "The young woman and I long for the comforts of our room. She who sees to it that wine, good food and a warm fire await our quick retirement will receive extra gratitude." The clinking in his pocket dispatched the sturdy servant to these accomplishments. It was not a quarter hour later that Valentina and D'Angelo found themselves in the large plain room that was the inn's finest.

Valentina roamed about, wringing her hands in her nervousness at this unexpected turn of events. "Sire, I . . . I do not think this quartering is proper."

D'Angelo raised an eyebrow at her from where he poured wine into matching mugs. "Oh? You think it would be more proper to spend your night in the barn barricading your bed against . . . rats?"

Valentina blushed, knowing he meant the two-legged species. But her eyes saw him at his leisurely task of stoking the fire and arranging the small table laid for them and darted toward the door. Surely the innkeeper could be kept at bay more readily than this highborn who was more threatening in a different way.

D'Angelo, without looking up, said casually, holding up a key which caught the firelight ominously. "Oh, I forgot to tell you; I locked our door so that we may have no surprises from our delightful host. Now won't you stop pacing like a caged bear and come have some wine?" The nobleman took a sip, his eyes laughing at Valentina as she made her uncertain way back to the fire. "Ah! The dolt serves half-decent wine, at least." He held out the mug to Valentina as though it were the finest silver goblet. "Drink well of it, for I fear the food is worthy of our innkeeper's poor taste."

They stood silently warming at the fire, D'Angelo filling both wine-cups frequently, till Valentina, feeling her head swimming, cried ''No more! Lord D'Angelo, I beg youno more spiritsnor yet more of this play! You forget who we are!"

D'Angelo took her mug from her shaking fingers. "Play? My dear Floria, where's your love for democracy? The extraordinary? Consider us equals, not maid and master, for this night together given us by some laughing gods who grant it to us not as high or low born, but as man and woman!"

Valentina allowed herself to be seated, somehow feeling that the rough table with its thick crockery had been magically transformed into the finest, snowiest banquet board.

But a glance across the table at the man whose eyes caught the fire glow in their darkening depths made her belie her previous refusal of more wine. She was being watched so intently that her trembling hand spilled some wine drops on her neckcloth; exclaiming nervously, she set her cup down and set to work scrubbing at the cheap linen with her table cloth.

The servant-girl demeanor came naturally; indeed Valentina's unease with her circumstances was not pretended. "Forgive me, Noble, for my poor manners! I have never dined with . . . oh!" She stopped in confusion, seeing she had rubbed her neckcover so vigorously as to free her bosom to the admiring gaze of her companion. "I . . . please excuse me!" To embarrass her further, she dropped the soiled article and sat blushing at the realization that to retrieve it entailed fumbling between the boots of the man who sat immobile in unrestrained enjoyment of the situation.

Ghia D'Angelo did not make any attempt to help the lovely girl in her dilemma. His last show of patient wooer was over after watching this little delicious tableau. The little minx! She's worked the tease into a wondrous art! No wonder poor Cortivanni could think of no one at the last but this vixen!

Valentina was not totally ignorant about what was happening across from her unplanned state of deshabille and made a desperate lunge at the neckpiece, only to be caught at yet a more alarming disadvantage. Her waist felt one strong hand at its small girth, while her neckcloth, neatly retrieved, was caught by another. Her breath came fast almost directly into the face of her captor. "Lord D'Angelo!"

Her ear felt the touch of searching lips, then heard the amused whisper, "Just for tonight, can you not call me 'D'Angelo'? Or a simple 'my love' will do!"

Valentina struggled for space to make her most desperate attempt at freedom. Surely her mother, if she looked down upon her now, would forgive her breaking her oath! "I will call you 'fiend' if you persist in these advances! I must tell you now, before it is too late, that to continue this embrace is insulting to one who is, in truth, as highborn as yourself!"

D'Angelo put his head back to laugh into her eyes. "What is this? My pretty little maid actually a princess in disguise? Ah, Floria, how you delight me!" His lips made for hers, but the girl turned her head and was hard-pressed to speak for the shivery kisses being showered on her throat.

"It's true, I swear it! I am in fact the real Contessa Valentina Fezzio de Cortivanni!"

D'Angelo murmured as he drew her even nearer, "And I, sweet Princess in disguise, am really the Doge's son, who ran away from his cloistered palace to seek out the most beautiful . . . liar in the world!" He freed the smooth shoulder from its sleeve, trailing his lips slowly upwards to Valentina's silky hair. "And since I have found her, I claim my reward!" Again his mouth sought hers, but the girl twisted away from the demanding lips.

"Sir, you shame my family, as well as myself!" D'Angelo was successfully freeing her from her skirt, having found the drawstring which did the work.

"How can I? They would be happy to see you bedded with one who is half the age of your previous lover!" Somehow D'Angelo had managed, with all else he was doing, to pull off his own trousers and shirt. As he moved to place them out of his way, Valentina wriggled from his arms and quickly put the small table between them.

"I tell you, I am Valentina!" Her eyes blazed across at D'Angelo, who laughed softly at her folly of thinking such a poor barrier would keep her from him.

"And I tell you, I am reluctant to end this charade of your reluctance to be beddedbut my body grows impatient!" With a swift move, he recaptured her, his mouth and arms claiming victory.

The urgent lips bruising hers held no pity for the last entreaty his passion-fogged brain would hear: "If you will not believe I am Valentina, then believe at least that I have never . . . never known a man!"

D'Angelo's eyes opened to look into hers for a long, serious moment, then said softly, before claiming her lips again, "I would give half my fortune if it were so! That, too, would be a glorious gift from the godslike this night with you in my arms!"

His fur-lined cloak spread before the slumbering fire gave a soft base for the silky loveliness of Valentina. D'Angelo's lips lingered along the fragrant skin which glowed from the fire, and from other causes that would have thrilled the noble, had he but known. He marvelled aloud at her unmarred perfection, drank from the natural fragrance of her sweet body, and then could wait no longer to feel Valentina beneath him.

The girl would have cried out at the moment he entered her, but D'Angelo's mouth crushed her own, drawing the breath for the pent-up scream at this shocking invasion of her secret parts. She was to remember later, with some bitterness, that Floria had warned her countless times about the harm that befell virgins who galloped fullspeed astride lively horses. Valentina had thought then the maid spoke of broken necks or the like; now she realized, with grim humour, her reckless rides had cost her the one valid proof of her claim to virginity.

D'Angelo caught himself wondering while making love to Valentina's exquisite body. Is the girl up to more tricks, lying so still, so seemingly unschooled in courtesan arts? But his own selfish needs caught him up once more and he gave himself completely to the delights he was encountering.

Valentina wept long after D'Angelo slept. She crept quietly from the bed he had taken her into, and huddled miserably before the few remaining embers that had witnessed her shame.

It had not been enough, that first siege of passion; no, he would have her again and again in the shuddering bed, fondling and using her body till she ached . . .

Her shame was not that she had thus been so used, but that she had found herself at the last unconsciously responding to D'Angelo's tender kisses and repeated caresses, before she realized what she was doingbut not before her lover noted it with some intimate endearments that made her blush now, all over.

The fire died completely, leaving Valentina alone with cold thoughts. How shall I make D'Angelo believe that I am truly my parents' honoured daughter, heiress to the Cortivanni fortunes? How can I be received in Venice, among my peers, as the paramour of the man chosen for my guardian? She looked over toward the bed where her supposed guardian slept, his hair boyishly tumbled and face soft in sleep, so that her heart momentarily softened.

But the sympathy was brief. Mournful about her status, she stared at her clothes, flung carelessly atop her shoes, and wondered how to show proof of her birth to D'Angelo, before he presented her to her new home in the guise of a maid, lowborn and peasant! It was an entry never to live down, even when she was finally recognized!

Her eyes struck the boot in the corner. The ring! The seal ring matching her father's that her mother had given her! Of course. She would use it to make her case with D'Angelo!

That gentleman awoke to an unexpected sight. Instead of being in his bed as he had supposed she would be, the girl sat calmly at the little table, her shining hair neatly caught up and clothes and neckcloth firmly in place. The man sat up and asked with indulgent good humour, "And who might be the fortunate recipient of the note you so prettily pen, my sweet? And why are you at such business so early?"

Valentina answered coolly, not looking up from the note she was writing to her mother's oldest friend, the most honoured and respected wife to Count Ferdi de Vietti, who would serve well her purpose in establishing her identity and restoring her dignified entrance to Venetian society. "I write to my mother's friend, a countess who has known me since I was but a babe. She will expect us at day's end, have fresh clothes for myself and a valet for yourself, and other needs travelling nobility might express." Valentina firmly set her seal to the warmed wax and stamped the thick letter closed while D'Angelo stared at her, astonishment mixed with growing dread. The girl went on calmly, her confidence making D'Angelo grow even uneasier with his highhanded dismissal of her earlier claims to be Valentina. "The barmaid you bribed last night will serve as my maid enroute to Villa Vietti, as a Venetian noblewoman does not travel alone with a man unchaperoned! And I am sure the Countess will see to it that I do not enter upon the life my mother and father planned for me in event of their demise . . ." Her voice shook a little at this point, but went on after a moment, ignoring D'Angelo's stumbling interruptions, ". . . to be looked upon as a degraded, ruined heiress to be pitied by whispering, gossiping Venetian matrons!" She took a deep breath and glared at the man who was fully awake now and still staring at her in such open-mouthed horror that she wanted to laugh out loud. But what had happened the previous evening was not laughable, and Valentina knew this.

She got up at the knock at the door. "That will be the maidPerky, I think she said he calls her. She'll be here to tell me the messenger awaits. The girl was kind enough to fetch me the pen and paper earlier, and has prepared my breakfast for me below." Valentina turned to smile sweetly at the man who still had not managed a coherent response to any of this. "I told her I did not doubt you would prefer to breakfast within the bed which you favour so highly."

D'Angelo looked anguished. "FloriaValentina, I have no tongue to tell you my horror at this most hideous confusion. It is a comedy I cannot excuse!"

Valentina said bitingly, "It was not as a comedy I viewed my evening as your forced bedmate!"

The man squirmed. "Have pity, Valentina! I do not know how we came to this vast misunderstanding, but all that Ghia D'Angelo can do to undo it . . ."

Valentina was pitiless. "Begin with giving the maid gold for the messenger . . . and for her own self, since she will return to this inn on the morrow when we leave from Villa Vietti. I will not have her in Venice, as she alone knows of this pretty room arrangement you and your moral equal, the innkeeper, did provide!"

D'Angelo slid back under the covers with his mortification complete while Valentina, feeling considerably more cheerful, and in control again slid out the door. By the time D'Angelo appeared freshly washed and dressed, she had seen to all arrangements, ignoring pointedly the shifty darts of confused speculation the innkeeper divided between herself and D'Angelo.

Almost wordlessly they rode out for Villa Vietti, and from there, a day later, to the city of Venice, the queen port which would welcome her new daughter as proudly as it already had received that very day two of her voyage-weary sons.

Those two, the brothers Polo, father and uncle to Marco, were destined to have profound effect on the life of Valentina.

Chapter Two

Valentina in Venice; Nicolo

The young Contessa Valentina Fezzio de Cortivanni looked down from her window in the Villa Fornaldo, dreamily admiring the way the sun shimmered and glittered on the canal below.

She could hear her adopted aunt, the Contessa Ile de Fornaldo, chiding a servant in the hall and smiled to herself. How well she knew from her two years under the watchful eye of D'Angelo's relative that such quarreling hid the biggest heart in Venice! That large lady, ceaseless gossip that she was, had kindly kept her tongue over the way Valentina had been passed to her guardian's aunt and then ignored by D'Angelo.

The girl knew the Contessa was bewildered by her nephew's studious avoidance of his ward's company, but the ordinarily loquacious lady had forborne interference in what she rightly sensed to be a deeply sensitive area. To her mildly inquisitive husband she passed the matter off lightly: "Oh, D'Angelo has no mind for anything or anyone these days except the business affairs that keep him from town! Even when he stays at his villa here I hear his light can be seen late into night, while he pores over his accounts with his ledgerman. The poor fellow wears himself thin trying to devise some plan to keep his scattering holdings together and profitable. A shame such a brilliant merchant should suffer for the bad times and the poor business sense of his late father!" In truth, Aunt Fornaldo was as worried over her nephew's rumoured reverses in fortune as she was about his neglected personal affairs. She knew how hard D'Angelo had struggled to expand the estates left him by his father; she had also heard rumbles about the land-hungry Duke of Padua and about D'Angelo's difficulties with the Genoa tariffs on his fleet.

Valentina, whose curious nature extended to wanting news of the unfathomable D'Angelo, often gleaned information from her chaperone. That lady's monologues often had the important news mixed in with the insignificant pieces; the girl quickly learned how to sift Aunt Fornaldo's comments skillfully, and had found out much about D'Angelo's affairs in this manner.

The girl frowned down at the panorama beneath her, watching unseeingly a tall vessel entering the distant port. How much dark confusion there was about her relationship with her noble guardian! If the truth were known, she found his careful skirting of her presence more frustrating than insulting. Valentina, grown even lovelier and more blooming in the time since she'd left the provinces, was so cloistered from normal, mixed society that she found herself looking back at the passionate encounter in the inn with inordinate emotion. She started guiltily out of a reverie when Pia, the young woman who had been brought to be her companion, came in.

"Oh, Valentina, you will never believe the news I bring!"

Valentina said crossly, upset that another's intrusion on her secret recollections made her face flame, "Pia, how you do bound into rooms, with no thought of knocking!" But she quickly repented her sharpness at the hurt look on the simple-minded girl's pretty face and asked more sweetly, "News, you say? I will be glad to learn at last what secret business has set the house to bustling and our dear Countess to stewing even more than usual!"

Pia's lilting voice could not impart her tidings quickly enough; the words tumbled over one another. "Ah, but perhaps you have already heard of the fabulous Polos . . . ! Oh, my dear, how lovely you will be in the gown our Lady is bringing up almost at my heels! How glorious to be so finely dressed, to ride like a queen in our darling gondola . . . how splendid to hear at one's elbow the wondrous tales of exotic lands . . . !" Pia, in girlish enthusiasm, danced the other girl around the room, till Valentina, laughing but still bewildered, drew back and set firm hands on Pia's restless shoulders.

"Pia, my love! Stop your prancing, child, and make some sense in this. These wild notions that have set your feet and my brain whirling have no meaning to them."

Pia's eyes still danced with excitement, though she said more lucidly, "I speak of the famous travelers who came back to Venice at the same time as yourself, love! Why, the whole town buzzes about Nicolo and Maffeo Polo. News of their wonderful stories about their travels must have reached the Doge's ears, for the brothers have been invited to his palace to entertain chosen nobility with their tales!"

Valentina tried to hide her own rising excitement at the mention of such outlandish goings-on. ''Pia, you know how D'Angelo will not hear of my being exposed to society. And, besides, who am I to be invited to a fête at the Doge's Palace?"

Pia's dimples appeared. "You're the most beautiful girl in Venice, love! I heard the Contessa say this herself, when she told her husband that D'Angelo's strict ties on you were ridiculous and that tonight you would go to the fête and outshine every Venetian beauty there!"

Valentina turned her face so that Pia would not see the shadow that passed over her features at the mention of D'Angelo's restrictions on her. "If so, it will be upsetting to our Lord D'Angelo, who seems determined to keep me away from frivolous settings!"

Pia's sweet face showed such concern that Valentina hugged her contritely. "Oh, my angel, forgive me! I will not have you worry over the bristlings between my guardian and myself."

Pia shook her head slowly. "Please don't worry, Valentina. I have long known there was something between you and D'Angelo that defied my simple understanding. It is only that when you mention our Lord D'Angelo, I . . . I feel such shame."

Excitement over a party left Valentina's head; she stared at the younger girl in amazement. "Shame? Pia, I do not know what you are talking about! Why should you feel shame about yourself and my guardian?" A terrible suspicion was rising in her and she took the girl's hands away from the face they covered. "Pia, we have been close these two years; you must tell me if D'Angelo has . . . if you and he have . . ." Valentina's face blazed scarlet at the possibility that here was yet another object of D'Angelo's considerable seductive powers.

Pia's mouth opened twice, like a small bird's, then shut firmly, before she wailed miserably, "Oh, Valentina, try not to think badly of mebut I cannot speak of it! He has made me swear not to . . . most particularly to you or to the Contessa!"

Valentina said angrily, "That does not surprise me! Pia, angel, I beg you to remember he cannot force you into . . . into any arrangement which you abhor . . ."

Pia's round eyes were so innocent that Valentina inwardly groaned in defeat. "Oh, but of course I do not abhor being kept in my dear noble D'Angelo's close quarters. Oh, dear, do not look so fierce, Valentina! I can say no more!" And the young woman fled before Valentina could tax her promise to silence further.

The Countess Fornaldo, weighed down by her own considerable girth and the glimmering gold satin draped over one arm, humphed and fussed after Pia's hastily departing form, which had nearly knocked her down. "I vow the chit never walks a step. Always running, always dancing! It is another flaw of her unnotable background, I suppose. Though I had hoped to see her married to some middle-born Venetian who cares not for bloodlines or sharp wit, but only for beautywhich the girl has, I must confess, though I cannot see it will stand by her after this last muddle your dear guardian has made of things."

She paused for breath and Valentina had a chance to sort out the allusion to Pia's situation from the prattle. "Madame, I care for the girl very muchlike a sisterand hope you will speak to D'Angelo about . . . the stress he might have brought her."

Aunt Fornaldo sighed heavily. "Speak to him who laughs at what I say more than he listens? Little vixen, how do you learn these secrets? But best you should have learned within these walls than from some vicious matron. How Venice loves gossip about its highborn sons! But my arrogant nephew will not listen to me when I say his perversities will soon be public knowledge."

Valentina prodded gently, still wishing to learn how far D'Angelo had gone with his seduction of her companion. "Dear Aunt, it need not be so, if we keep this matter to ourselves. Does it not strike you that Pia herself seems willing in this move to D'Angelo's chambers?"

The Contessa overcame mild shock over Valentina's calmness and burst out with relief to find a sympathetic ear to her tirade. "The poor child! As innocent as yourself!" (She missed Valentina's blush at this) "That our house should come to such laxity! How can a man of my nephew's breeding . . . ! Now if it were a maid from the back halls . . . ! Yes, that I could understand, though my own husband never . . . ! But to spirit away from under our noses a girl who was chosen companion to his ward, with no word of apology to myself or any other . . . !" The Contessa seemed about to burst, her fan whirring comically.

But Valentina had no inclination to laugh. She gave a deep sigh, and forgetting her companion's sensitivities, murmured, I suppose he's already raped her, then."

The older woman sputtered and choked and clutched at her many-layered throat, and Valentina was afraid she would faint. "Oh, but it doesn't come to that, I would hope, in such matters . . . ! Here, let us quit this hideous subject and go on to pleasanter matters. You will, I think, find the gold in this gown brings out the colors most admirably in your hair and complexion . . ."

Valentina concentrated once more on the excitement of her debut that night in Venetian society. "Dear Aunt, the dress is lovelythough I still reel with the news that I will appear at the Doge's own gathering. Surely my importance has been mistaken; the Doge can have no thought for an unknown noblewoman like myself . . ." The exhilarating idea of making her initial bow in the company of one so high as the chief magistrate and men so notorious as the Polos pushed distress over Pia from her mind.

The Countess eyed the dress held against her charge with much satisfaction. "Ah, but he will, he will . . . after seeing you in such dazzling form!"

Valentina let herself be tugged at and adjusted and groomed to her chaperone's content. The excitement of meeting the adventurous Polo brothers in her new finery mixed confusingly with contemplation of matters closer home.

Those brothers themselves were even then strolling about the city not far from where Valentina was being prepared to bedazzle all who loved beauty. Still bronzed and lean from their hard journeys from the exotic lands of the Kublai Khan, both men were feeling smug at the chink in the armour of Venetian skepticism which the Doge's invitation represented.

The more striking brother, Nicolo, father to the stripling Marco Polo, sighed contentedly as he looked about him. "Ah, Maffeo, I still revel in being home againthough the waiting has been tedious. Does it seem as long as two years ago we came here, fearing we must fight to enter my own villa?"

Maffeo, never mistaken as head of any enterprise in which his stronger brother was involved, chuckled. "I still must laugh at the memory of the shocked looks on our relatives' greedy faces when they opened the door to us! Marco confided later that most thought us dead and the family estate an easy mark, it being guarded by himself and the one old caretaker uncle." Nicolo smiled, but tightly. "It was not an ideal homecoming, Maffeo, certainly! To leave Rome where we waited to no good end, and then to come home and find my villa taken over by raggle-taggle relatives and no longer headed by the wife I left behind!"

Maffeo, softer-hearted than his brother, said softly, "None could love to come home after fifteen years to find his mate dead and a son who had grown up in his absence!"

Nicolo was quiet, but not from grief as his brother supposed. He was struggling to recall the face of the woman who'd conceived Marco not long before her husband turned his restless eyes toward the east. "Even so, it is good to be home again, though little has been accomplished in our wait."

Maffeo said hopefully, "But the Doge himself has sanctioned us! Perhaps now we will find more sympathy to our cause."

The other man laughed harshly. "Sympathy! As you well know, brother, our appeal is for our entertainment value more than as messengers from the Great Khan. Do you truly think the limp-boned aristocrats who will listen to our stories tonight will trust our seriousness as regards the Khan's mission?" Maffeo did not reply, knowing his brother often gave men the impression that what he had seen and experienced was too marvelous for the ordinary man to appreciate. "Will any here accept as sincere the Kublai Khan's expressed desire to learn more about the Christian teachings? They paid little enough attention to the request in Rome!"

Maffeo said carefully, "But there we were hampered by lack of authority. How could we know no new Pope had yet been elected? That the officials there could not grant a citizen the simplest title, much less grant our request from the Great Khan" He turned to give Nicolo a wry smile. "It was not a small charge, as you must admit! To ask us to come back to Cathay with a thousand holy men and lamp oil from the Holy Land . . . and to have us present the commission at a time when officials are bickering and scattered in the struggle to name a new Pope . . . !" He laughed shortly. "The lamp oil will be granted, undoubtedly . . . and we shall have to hope that the Khan is tolerant of the lack of priests!"

Nicolo kicked at a pebble. "Such a small request, when the whole of Christianity could be furthered over a vast kingdom!"

Maffeo did not have his brother's talent for convincing himself that half-truths were whole truths, if it suited that one's purpose. "Nicolo, sometimes I think you forget that the Great Khanfor all your admirationis above all the most devious of men! We can stand firm on our commission to Rome as long as you wish, but we both know he has a darker purpose than his stated yearning for knowledge of our religion! If others knew the Khan as we know him, you and I could be marked as traitors!"

The other smiled coldly. "You choose a strong word, Maffeo. At any rate, all our agonizing is for nothing, since our stay in Rome was fruitless!"

"Perhaps this was fortune disguised as misfortune!"

Nicolo made a sharp sound. "God's teeth, Maffeo! Have you forgotten how well the Mongols control their huge armies? How fat and lazy we find our countrymen have become since we left these borders? I am no traitor, but instead a lover of Venice. Anything we can accomplish to keep the deadly war-machines away from these lands will be to these fools' benefit!"

The other brother chuckled, knowing Nicolo would not be offended by his jest. "And of course the thought of returning to Cathay in good favour with a splendid monarchand along the way swelling your trade benefitshas nothing to do with your exuberance with your mission!"

Nicolo slapped his brother's back, laughing heartily. "Oh, of course not, dear Maffeo! Have I not just sold myself to you as a noble, self-sacrificing ambassador, who can have nothing but pious disregard for material wealth? Now if I can manage to sell myself as well to rich Venetian merchants who come together under the Doge's roof to hear my tales! Then perhaps we will return to Cathay in the great style and honour we deserve!"

And the two men walked off arm in arm, still chuckling, to prepare for the evening's fête at the Doge's Palace.

Valentina was nervous over her first public appearance, and for once grateful for the running commentary kept up by her chaperone while they entered the Doge's entertainment halls. ("See that one over there? Don't smile at him, though he stares so at you . . . his family lost their wealth last month and the Doge simply hasn't cut them yet. Hold your chin up, love, so your lovely throat shows. Dear me, how could I have missed that your dress falls so low . . . ?") But the Countess Fornaldo was preening like a proud hen in the success of their entrance; she gloried in the admiring glances and openmouthed stares that ushered her beautiful companion and herself ahead of the Count, and sailed majestically to their tiny alcove arranged with the others along one side of the room.

Valentina, though self-conscious, finally realized that everyone was peering about at everyone else, so she abandoned her haughty stance and let her own eyes wander. Her gaze was caught and held by a most outstanding gentleman whose eyes magnetized her own. Valentina felt herself swept into the masterful aura projected so strongly across the room, and knew the color mounted in her face. She almost welcomed the distraction of her aunt hissing from behind a fan, "Girl, keep your eyes down; that one is the adventurer, and all eyes here are on him and yourself equally! Would you have everyone here see you blushing at Nicolo Polo?"

Valentina hastily retrieved her gaze, but not before she found herself thrilling to the thought of hearing this man talk . . . about anything! She recognized the special quality about the man that set him apart from all others, and something within her ached to know of the lands he had touched, the marvels he had seen, the people he had conversed with.

Even her chaperone had not missed the mark of the extraordinary about this man. "The eyes, Valentina; have you ever seen such eyes? I have never seen any so large and luminous, though the fellow himself is not overly handsome!"

Valentina said softly, "Wasn't it said somewhere, Madame, that often the mark of a god on mortal earth is a large, remarkable gaze?"

The Contessa glanced sharply at her charge. "If it was said, it was not to my ears, minx. Come, make your cow-eyes at another more worthy; the Doge comes, and, oh, so finely dressed!" The woman giggled, "He walks steadily tonight, having sworn never to drink spirits again at any gathering!"

Valentina politely gave attention to the high official whose paunch contrasted with the slender-girthed man whom he was welcoming. "Why will he not drink of wine in public?"

Aunt Fornaldo whispered wickedly, "Because the poor man cannot hold his water! He takes only warm juices nowthough last month a jester swapped glasses with him and our poor Doge's dignity was put to its worst test!"

Their giggles died away as Nicolo Polo took command of the audience, and they gave themselves over to an hour's spellbound listening. Valentina thought never to hear such wondrous things as this traveller spoke of, not if she lived to be a hundred.

She was quickly spirited away the moment her aunt perceived the speeches were done with; the Contessa had tardily grown uneasy over Valentina's dreamy face and did not waste time installing her in the gondola for the trip home.

The Fornaldos chatted about the evening's entertainment, still trying to absorb the abundance of Nicolo's tales. "I swear I have never heard such! My husband, tell me there can be no world so large as this Polo fellow describes! Marble balconies traced with gold and silver! Thousands of white elephants ridden by thousands of diamond-bedecked slaves, indeed! The man tells a fine story, but he has taxed my brain's belief with such imaginings."

Her spouse said drily, "His spell-weaving was not solely for entertainment, my love. This Lord Polo is no foolish dreamer. I marked the disappointment on his face at the end when many were whispering their disbelief in the marvels he described." He laughed shortly. "I fear the man expected everyone there to accept his fairy-tales for fact!"

Valentina, who had been indolently trailing her fingers in the water, came to Nicolo's defense. "Uncle, you make it seem that this man has no sincerity of purpose. Yet he has asked no one for anything, except faith in his stories!"

The Contessa said somewhat sharply, "He bides his time, as smart men always do. You will do well to stop defending one whose eyes, for all the world to see, lingered too long on your face and body. What will D'Angelo say when he hears of your conduct? There were close cronies of his there who will fall over themselves telling him about tonight."

Valentina knew her aunt was having guilt pangs over her own duplicity, but she did not remind the woman of her own responsibility in tonight's foray. "Dear Aunt, I can not think of a person who has less ground from which to make morality speeches!"

Aunt Fornaldo, thus reminded of D'Angelo's indiscretions, stammered a bit, then focused her quarrel on her husband, who was innocent. "I declare, it galls me how I must ever deal with these matters which, as a genteel lady, I much prefer to stay out of . . ." And poor Count Fornaldo must listen as his wife ticked off their nephew's failings, and his own and other men's, with a verbose discourse on youth's decadence in general thrown in for good measure.

Valentina, for her own part, had secret smiles and thoughts about how much smaller Venice, with its prejudices and foibles, had grown in only one evening.

Even while the three returned to the Fornaldo Villa, Ghia D'Angelo gloomily sipped his wine in his own house not far away. He had just returned from outlying estates which had told their own story of cruel drought. The almost empty glass he held to his lips reminded him of the scarred, dying vineyards to the south; with no relief, the dwindling reserves now in his cellar would be the total remaining supply of D'Angelo wine!

He pondered the recent setbacks to his fortunes, wondering which was the worse villain: the Duke of Padua or a cruel Nature who kept her rains from thirsty vines.

He thought of even more disastrous reverses. His ships' cargoes impounded in a distant harbour brought another groan to his lips. With no fleet or cargoes, his valued franchise for trade could be wrested from him any day!

How to recoup, honourably? He knew it was no use to call on neighboring provincial lords for rescue from these hard times. The noble houses of Venice no longer banded together to hire expensive armies in the old all-for-one/ one-for-all traditionnot since some few enjoyed richer franchises than others!

He studied his wine glumly. He was not being selfish in his distress; after all, they would all suffer in the end. A weakened Venice, with her sustaining provincelands decimated, would starve and be easy prey to marauding Turks or Genoans.

But this did not solve his personal dilemma. He needed fifteen hundred mercenaries to drive the Duke back from his borders and to hire fifteen hundred mercenaries, he needed gold.

Gold which he did not have!

He drank heavily of more wine, the thought of mercenaries making him think of Valentina, and that pained him in a different way.

Valentina. He leaned back in his chair, no longer frowning. Perhaps it was provident that the past two years had been financially devastating, for his troubles had helped keep his mind from a subject that would otherwise have tormented him constantly. He smiled to himself, thinking of the times he had caught Valentina's bewildered look at his seeming indifference to her. He could only imagine how she fumed inwardly over his restrictions of her, which effectively kept her from the view of potent young rivals. D'Angelo knew they would have sniffed her exquisite sensuality long before her sizeable fortune.

The prospect of losing Valentina to some downy-lipped Venetian heir was unbearable!

His aunt assumed him to be taking his guardianship seriously, keeping Valentina protected as the Cortivannis would have wished. Only D'Angelo himself knew with what abiding patience he waited for Valentina to come to the realization that she loved him as he already loved her.

And now this business of the ruination of his fortunes. He slammed his fist into the midst of his unhappy account books. ''Hell's gates! I cannot woo her as a pauper! But I have waited patiently long enough. I have spent enough miserable hours wondering if I mean more to her than one night's madness, or can ever mean more than guardian!"

He sent for his cape in sudden resolve and, a little unsteady from the wine, left his villa, never dreaming he would find Valentina alone at the Fornaldos' Villa.

On the way he had an angry thought over the story he had just an hour before heard about his ward exchanging long glances with the Polo fellow. Had the adventurer heard of the Cortivanni fortune? He was familiar with the Polo reputation.

The Cortivanni fortune. D'Angelo smiled slightly at the reflection that, while his own fortunes dwindled, Valentina's had prospered, happily increased by wise investment of it separate from his own!

It was to his credit (though even now the significance did not strike him) that he had not once, not even in the darkest hour of portending ruin, contemplated abuse of Valentina's wealth to his own advantage.

Valentina, meanwhile, begged off from her chaperones' planned extension of the evening at friends' nearby and took her leave of the gondola, pleading fatigue. "Dear friends, the night has already held too much excitement for my poor head. No, no; do not come in with me, Uncle, as I shall simply go quietly to seek my bed at once." And the girl waved them off, her wide smile not so much friendly as grateful that at last she would have solitude in which to dream of wondrous things.

The Fornaldos, already underway and deep in conversation on the evening's happenings, did not notice the dark-caped figure who waited in the shadows for Valentina to enter their villa. Nor would they ever learn of their nephew's most unorthodox call upon their beautiful charge.

The girl, feeling not at all exhausted as she had claimed, danced into and about the marbled hall, dress and hair flying in the wonderful freedom of being unchaperoned. Her eyes caught sight of herself in a mirror, and she stopped to admire unabashedly the glowing cheeks and eyes reflected there. She laughed in the universal way of women who are beautiful and aware of it, and coquettishly turned her head this way and that, then set hands to hips to turn and preen and admire the effects of graceful curves.

"Lovely. Absolutely beautiful."

Valentina whirled to see D'Angelo lounging unsteadily against the arch to the private chambers kept for his use. "D'Angelo! What . . . what are you doing here? What would your aunt say to find you calling at such a late hour?" D'Angelo shuddered with such a face that Valentina almost giggled. I cannot bear to think of whatand how much!she would say! But this is my own villa, too, if you will remember, dear ward. And our aunt is best left in ignorance of this visit, I think you will agree." The dark eyes laughed at her, as though daring her to show fear or nervousness at being alone with him.

Valentina recovered her aplomb somewhat, turning to adjust a ringlet so her guardian might not notice her trembling. "I agree you can stand no more disgrace to your character. God knows there has been enough talk already about yourself and poor beguiled Pia!"

But D'Angelo did not get angry as Valentina, watching carefully from the corner of her eye, had expected. He only smiled secretively. "Why, Valentina! I do believe you are jealous. And here I had thought you too ladylike for such womanly mercuries!" He shifted his stance so unsteadily that Valentina feared he would tumble.

"D'Angelo, for God's sake, be more discreet! Must we stand out here arguing for any servant to hear?"

The man's face assumed a sadness such as Valentina had not seen before in him. "I had hoped . . . I had hoped tonight of all nights not to argue with you at all, Valentina."

The girl stood uncertainly, not knowing how to take this sudden note of pleading in his manner. "Has tonight a special meaning for you, my lord?"

D'Angelo's eyes stayed on her face, searching for that which he craved. "An unhappy one, sweet Valentina. I have just accepted the bleak news that I am almost bankrupt . . . that the two years past have drained my coffers, ruined me totally. My only solace is drink and . . . your lovely face showing the tiniest bit of sympathy." A devilish glint reappeared, making him the D'Angelo she knew best. "Two years! God help me, I had not thought of it! Valentina . . . sweet Valentina! . . . my downfall began the day I met you! Did you put a curse on me that night at the inn?"

Valentina blushed. "Would any have blamed me? But, D'Angelo, do not tease about this subject which distresses me more than I can say! I do not wish you ill."

"I wish I could be sure your sweet distress is not for worry about your own fortune, which no doubt you suspect I have had poor luck with like my own!" D'Angelo's eyes flashed into hers. "And, little beauty, for the future, know this! You may hate me, adore me, ignore mebut, for God's sake, do not pity Ghia D'Angelo!"

Valentina lashed back, "Since you despise my sympathy and any other honest feeling from me, I shall leave you to moan in solitude!"

D'Angelo said coolly, as he gave a mocking bow, "By no means allow me to keep a child from her pristine nursery."

At this, Valentina whirled and stamped off, indeed like a small girl in a tantrum. But something stopped her at the end of the hall and she turned to catch D'Angelo staring after her so longingly, his face so unguarded for the moment that her heart turned over. Her whisper floated back to him, bringing a new light to his eyes, "D'Angelo, you know as well as I do that I am not a child. I have not been, since the night you forced me to realize I had never been." She walked to him slowly, her eyes bright on his.

D'Angelo waited breathlessly till she stood close to him. "I knew tonight was special, Valentina . . ."

They stood basking in the fires leaping between them. The girl smiled teasingly. "Then we should have wine to celebrate! But the Fornaldo kitchen would be most distressed if I were to send for refreshment . . ." D'Angelo kissed her hand, his eyes laughing above the warmth of his lips. "Does it surprise you that within my quarters, through this very door, is kept a bottle of my father's finest vintage wine?" As if in a dream Valentina glided before him, scarcely hearing the dull thud of the door behind them. "And that somehowperhaps magically!the fire still burns?" D'Angelo's hand grazed Valentina's when he passed her a goblet. "Does this room seem transported to another time, another memory, love?"

Valentina knew he spoke of the time in the inn, and wondered why she felt no embarrassment, no shame at being reminded of his taking advantage of her. Could it be that tonight at the Palace she had wonderingly glimpsed through mysterious doors vistas of joys and ecstasies that one had only to reach out for? "My memory has treated the time we spent kindly, D'Angelothough genteel folk would no doubt wonder at my forgiveness of your advantage of me."

D'Angelo stared at her for a long moment, his face filled with some emotion that Valentina could not define. "My darling, can you fathom the agonies, the hurtful hours, the self-scorn that I have suffered these two years? And to have added to this the burden of trying to salvage my inheritance, which through ill luck and no fault of mine seems to be crumbling!"

Valentina, warmed by the glowing fire and the wine, slipped a soft hand in his. "And I, my lord? Am I a burden also?"

With a hoarse cry, D'Angelo swept her into his arms, staring down into her face with dark desire. "Burden? You a burden?" His mouth came a hairsbreath from her own. "I defy any man to name me a sweeter responsibility, or lovelier charge." His lips found hers and Valentina's senses spun her around till she did not know if she were back in the inn or here in D'Angelo's chambers, or somewhere in the golden reaches described by the man at the Doge's Palace . . .

D'Angelo was cursing at her gown's laces. "Damn! Am I to be barred from heaven by these wispy gates?"

Soft fingers joined his at the task, and at last the golden dress was released from Valentina's glowing body, which soon joined with D'Angelo's bared leanness on the fur rug before the fire.

As it had two years before, the fire brought gleaming life to their twining bodies. But this time there was another difference to their lovemaking. Valentina's body was not so shy, was more curved and womanly, and now unconsciously strained to meet each passionate thrust from the man whose lust was a hundredfold stronger for his long deprivation.

He whispered hoarsely before his moment of rapture that could not be delayed for long, "My love . . . my dear love! Your sweet passion is the tenderest gift my burdened soul could be given!"

And Valentina whispered back, with the little breath left to her, "It was you who started this yearning inside me that my shame tried to hide from metill now!" Her gasp at D'Angelo's increased tempo was stifled with demanding kisses as the man's passion crescendoed, then turned gentle at the responding burst of ecstasy which rivalled his own.

D'Angelo's eyes glowed down into her own, savoring the shivering peaks of passion that thrilled both lovers. "Now open your eyes, my darling, and see him who has become guardian to a greater treasure than all the gold in Cortivanni coffers!"

Valentina dutifully opened wide her hazel eyes made darker by passion. Coming somewhat to her senses, she blushed at the way their bodies still blended. She sighed and tried to squirm away in modest afterthought, but D'Angelo would not permit her escape. Her senses still reeled from ebbing pleasures that she had not dreamed of, though Floria had hinted at such things in women who were not afraid of love, and she was unable to protest when D'Angelo shifted from her only enough to allow caresses of her full breasts and still-trembling thighs.

"Oh, D'Angelo, no . . . I do not think I can endure . . . D'Angelo, do not!" But he was again stoking the strange fires that had consumed them both earlier; against her will a rosy nipple was teased by his lips to thrust itself into his seeking mouth. Valentina groaned and tried once more to evade the undaunted manhood which again sought its soft niche. "D'Angelo, I beg you to leave this play, as I already dread the necessary atonement for my excesses!"

Her lover made no answer, being suffused as before with irreversible desire to make this beautiful creature his own once more. His lips and hands stilled her weak protests and he made a second assault with such bruising vigor as to make Valentina a heap of will-less flesh whose only thought was to reach again the glorious heights of her passion melded with his.

Sitting demurely across from her guardian, in her gold gown once more, Valentina might have been in the chambers of her manager on simple business. The casual eye would not have seen the flushed cheeks or heaving breast, or the smoldering way in which D'Angelo watched his ward's face from the shadows.

"More wine, Valentina?" D'Angelo lifted his refilled glass to the girl across from him. "No? Then let us attempt to keep my lustful thoughts from that which I would most like to discuss by talking of your evening at the Doge's. Perhaps you would care to tell me more of this adventurer who caught you so close in his web of stories tonight!"

Valentina was startled. Aunt Fornaldo was righther evening had been spied out and reported most efficiently! But she reported easily, "You refer to Lord Polo? Ah, yes, it was most enlightening, most fascinating, to hear of such exotic lands and people. You would have been as captured as even the sternest noble was!"

D'Angelo refilled his glass, jealous that his beautiful ward had been enraptured by another. "And would my eyes have been twin stars shining just for him, my mouth moist and open and forgetting its intent of sipping at the Doge's syllabub, in rapture with the gentleman's tales?"

Valentina turned red, furious that she should be indicted for responding to the charm of another besides her guardian. "Your spy exaggerates greatly, my lordas perhaps some have rounded out the stories of you and my sweet companion!"

D'Angelo's glance was freezing. "Do not interpret matters of which you have not the slightest understanding, Valentina! Now we deal not with Pia and myself, but with you and a man who could have interest in more than your considerable beauty!"

Valentina rose to her feet in a golden fire of fury. "Oh, I cannot believe you, D'Angelo! Do you think no man can look at me without your permission? Do you say there is none that could be drawn to myself and not my fortune? I answer to that that this Nicolo Polo may be held in little repute by Venetian gentlemen who only go about seducing young wards and simple companionsbut I warrant he has not the penchant for vice that many claiming greater piety do!"

D'Angelo set his wineglass down sharply. "Careful how you slur me . . . and how you defend one who may not be a devil, but who is far from angelic, Miss! Ask any in the Polo region about the beautiful slave Nicolo keeps for the Khan, as gift! And then ask if Pia, who has come to me willingly, is a more sinful representative of man's lust."

But Valentina was struck by a deeper implication than Nicolo's bartering in flesh held for her. "Gift for the Khan? He will return to Cathay then?" Golden throne . . . ruby and diamond encrusted gates . . . "But I had assumed he had no thoughts of returning without the Khan's special envoy of Christian priests and holy oil . . . ! And my adopted uncle says he will need much backing . . . gold . . ."

D'Angelo's smile was crooked. "Gold? And will he get it from Venetian maidens who have starry eyes for men who traipse about the world?"

Valentina turned pale at her guardian's resentment. "I am no ingrate, D'Angelo; I know of your care with my fortune and how the troubles to your own holdings have forced you into anxious times. Please, speak no more about Nicolo Polo and his potential eye to my fortune, but know you have my permission to use my wealth as though it were your own!"

D'Angelo would have wept, had it not been unmanly. "Damn you, woman! I will not take your fortune and have the world say I slyly planned it so! Have you no sense of a man's pride?"

Valentina cried in frustration, "I am undone as how to please you, D'Angelo! You sneer at my fortune, you dangle your use of my playmate, Pia. You keep me cloistered from Venice society, being cold and aloof one momentwarm and adoring the next . . .damn you!" The girl got up to stamp a small foot and glare at her guardian. "D'Angelo, I will not take more of this treatment, nor abide being kept from the world! I long for life and freedom to gape unchecked at the wonders which most Venetian noble-women can only imagine!" She shook her finger at him, her eyes shooting sparks. "And if one such as this Nicolo Polo should happen to offer the chance to escape this prison, I will take it!"

D'Angelo stared at this avenging angel, desiring her and wanting to shake her at the same time. "You really mean it, don't you, minx? You would leave for the ends of the earth with no regrets! I had no idea the love of adventure flourished so in your pretty head." He looked at Valentina speculatively, wondering how he could manage to keep her from anotherand he himself bordering on such ruin as to be unable to pursue her himself!

But he was still guardian to this willful heiress. If he could somehow manage to stay near her while recouping his own fortunes . . .

D'Angelo saw with sudden clarity that the answer to his two-fold puzzle lay with this man Polo. His voice came mild, so that Valentina looked up quickly, wondering at the change. "So you would like to speak more with this fellow, would you?"

Valentina said suspiciously, "If you will not insist on mistaking my curiosity for infatuation, Lord D'Angelo! Yes . . . yes, I would be glad to hear more of his stories." She added defensively, "After all, one only hears gossip and trivia in Venetian circles!"

D'Angelo's mind was racing. To escape his most pressing creditors for long enough to recoup his wealth with far-off trade . . . to expose his ward to a world that would, if all went well, hurl Valentina back to his welcoming arms . . . ! It all hinged on Nicolo Polo and how much he was attracted to a Venetian heiress! ''Then let us play host to this gentleman! I hear rumours that he must soon leave, as he fears his Great Khan grows impatient with his long absence. Some even say he feels he must explain to this far-off Emperor why his Venetian emissary has been less than successful in the Khan's commission to him!"

Valentina was still uncomfortable that her guardian's turnabout had deeper motivation than desire to please her whim. "D'Angelo, have you some plan as concerns this voyager?"

Her companion sounded cheerful . . . too cheerful, perhaps! "Only to further their acquaintance with ourselves and other nobles who may be, as you are, titillated by this man's talents for a story! We will send word at once. A fête will be held tomorrow eve, at this villa, and you, my lovely Valentina, may play hostess with my aunt, who will love to fuss about the short notice."

Valentina said hesitantly, "I say 'good-night' to you, then, not knowing which of us is winner of an argument that most mysteriously became something else entirely!" She bowed and curtsied mockingly. "So, good-night . . . unless, of course, my Lord D'Angelo has further need of me?"

D'Angelo pulled her up and against him, his embrace and voice and eyes turned to steel so that Valentina was astonished. "Never speak of yourself that way again, Valentina, as though you were servant to my body, or any other. Never! Do you hear?"

Valentina, staring back at this man who, she despaired, would never come clear to her, could only say the most hurtful thing which came to mind.

"And Pia . . . do you caution her, too, against losing her self-respect each night when she comes meekly to your bed?"

D'Angelo looked as if he would strike her, but instead let her go so quickly she almost fell. Valentina, regretting her barb, watched his pained countenance struggling with an answer, then could bear no more. She left, and this time D'Angelo did not try to stop her.

Her waking dreams before sleeping alternated between images of Pia in D'Angelo's arms and Nicolo in some beautiful slave's embrace . . .

She pounded her soft pillow into compliance, wishing it were D'Angelo's head. After all, it had been he, and only he, who had made her feel and think things that no Venetian lady had any business experiencing!

"Wake up, lazy goose! The day promises to be laden with work and the night a triumph of entertainment!"

Valentina blinked as her chaperone bustled in, throwing windows wide to dazzling sunlight and otherwise making sleep impossible. "Madame, you must let light into my brain as well as into my eyes!" No need to tell Aunt Fornaldo how she already knew about the invitation to the Polos! "What is all this about entertainment?" She sat up and stretched, unaware the Countess darted sharp looks at the ripeness of form poorly concealed by a girlish nightdress.

Ah, perhaps D'Angelo was right and should have kept this pretty dove in her box! The thought made the Contessa's voice brusque. "I have no time for questions which would be better put to your guardianwho is the one who has invited your wonderful hero to make a second appearance. All I have time for is the hard work which allows my nephew all the credit! At least, though, we can follow the Doge's example in informality!"

Valentina knew the older woman was secretly pleased by the challenge to her competence as hostess, and she further smoothed her ruffled feathers. "My Lady, as all of Venice knows, you could have a year's notice or a day's and not fail to do our villa proud at any gathering that bore your name."

The Contessa hid her pleasure in the compliment by snapping, "Well, fail I will if you do not stop lolling about like Pia's cat and get breakfast while the table still groans with it. And it falls to you and the cook to see to it that the braces of quail and roast pig I ordered are of good quality. The libation I shall leave to Fornaldo, though that leaves D'Angelo, the instigator of this folderol, free of any duties but the inviting!"

Valentina quickly pulled on her morning dress, hiding a smile at the thought of how adroitly D'Angelo avoided his aunt's bustlings. "Be fair, Aunt, as he has so many things more serious than parties on his mind. Has he ordered diversions or music on our part?"

The Countess rolled her eyes. "My dear, surely you know it will be your pretty adventurer, the man Polo, who will be filling our ears with his own kind of music! Though D'Angelo did say that Pia might well be invited to lend her angel's voice to the interim hour . . ."

Valentina's ego was pricked. "With myself accompanying her on the flute?" She and Pia had always performed in duo.

The Contessa did not quite meet her eye; she, too, had wondered at how D'Angelo seemed pointedly to ignore any mention of Valentina that morning. "Well, he did not say sowe spoke hurriedly together, he being anxious to get the invitations away, and I busy with the work of this folly." She caught sight of Valentina's face in the mirror and stopped to ask with maternal concern, "My dear, how flushed your poor cheeks are! And such brightness of eye this morning! Is it a fever?"

Valentina finally convinced her aunt there was nothing wrong with her and was at last left to dress in peace. She eyed herself in the mirror and saw why her aunt had spoken of her appearance. Her hazel eyes were sparkling, her face had a most becoming glow and even her figure seemed softer and fuller! Without conceit she examined the rest of her image; until last night had her breasts thrust so against her gown's softness? Had her hips and buttocks' natural roundness seemed so voluptuous beneath a waist so tiny that a certain nobleman's hands could . . .

She brushed her hair with angry strokes, and lectured herself. "Valentina, how can you have such unseemly thoughts at such an early hour! Will you, like Narcissus, love your own image until you drown in it?" But the girl could no more quell her new sense of womanliness than she could prevent looking up nervously from breakfast whenever she heard a heavy footfall.

While Valentina breakfasted on tasteless warmed wine and spiced fruit, Nicolo Polo was exulting with his brother and the boy, Marco.

"I tell you, I would have given my dearest treasure from Cathay for a roomful of rapt listeners like the beautiful young woman who sat like a statue in the third alcove! Marco, even you, with your unquenching thirst for my stories, do not drink me dry with your gaze as that lovely lady did! And, since we come to mention thirst . . . I will have more wine!"

Marco scampered to fulfill the request, then rearranged himself at his father's feet, where he had spent so many fascinated hours listening to accounts of his father and uncle's adventures. He was impatient now to return to that more colorful talk now, rather than hear about the fatuous admiration exchanged between the young Contessa Cortivanni and his father at the Doge's gathering. One could talk about beautiful Venetian ladies any daybut how often did one hear of emperors who had riches and armies and domains more fabulous than he would ever see? "Father, you will learn more of the Contessa when you attend her guardian's festivity in your honour. I beg that you leave her and continue what you were explaining about the Great Khan's curiosity about our religion!"

Nicolo chuckled and winked at Maffeo. "Brother, do you see what we must live with if we take this big-eared boy back to Cathay with us? He is more full of questions than playfulness! Come, son, what else can I tell you? The Great Kublai Khan loves gifts, of all kinds, but he especially enjoys gifts of new knowledge. How interested he showed in learning more about the trappings of the Christian belief! Maffeo will tell you he was like a child wanting to know more of its magic."

"Magic?" Marco's voice squeaked in its earnestness. "He thinks our ways magic? You were sent as envoys to Rome for a thousand priests and sacred oil because he would test our faith for trickeryor magic?" Marco's devoutness had been well schooled into him by a religious mother.

Nicolo and Maffeo exchanged looks, not laughing now. Nicolo explained patiently, though he wished his son showed more of his own tolerance for other people, other beliefshis journeys had expanded Nicolo's mind to be open-minded about all manner of faiths.

"Great minds hold great curiosity for all things outside their spheres, son. Yes, the Great Khan is superstitious and, like all powerful men, seeks any opportunity to examine more closely a phenomenon which seems to hold tremendous fascination for many."

The boy's eyes burned into his father's. "Then there is no hope that he has plans for embracing our faith? He only wishes to know more, that he might have devious advantage of our weaknesses."

Nicolo said sternly, "Marco, I cannot add to your suspicions about a monarch whom I greatly admire. The Khan is far from our lands and his superstitions about Christianity gnaw at him. It is only natural that such a person would desire to examine minutely a practice of such widespread vistas!" He reached out and rumpled the boy's hair. "But do not be anxious that your uncle and I betray a faith that your mother held dear! We have already dispensed our responsibilities to the Great Khan, having done our best to fulfill his commissionbut, as you see, we must return to the Khan emptyhanded."

Marco said uncertainly, "But you would have carried out the mission, if it had not been that the Pope was not elected yet and the priests could not be freed to you! Father, I ask you now: if you knew for certain that the Khan's use of you two as envoys was to his own secret purpose, would you still have executed his charge to the fullest effort?"

Maffeo looked quickly at his brother, thinking perhaps the boy cut too deeply here. But Nicolo only sipped his wine in solemn thought, his mind weighing the question as much for himself as for the boy. "I can only say that I am not a weak man, Marcoas all traitors are. I am, however, mortal, with mortal fears, and I have long ago learned that everything one does in this life does not have to be done with the heart's total commitment." He sighed and turned to Maffeo. "Tell your nephew of the emperor's omnipotence! Tell him why we were bound to do as asked, whether in accord or not with the mission."

Marco's uncle nodded. "It may seem wondrous to you, Marco, as so many things about the Great Khan really are, but his ears and eyes reached even into Rome. If your father and I had not made the effort demanded of us, word would have reached the Emperor almost at onceand who knows what far-reaching form his fury would take!" He groaned, "Unfortunately, as it is we most likely will be dead men on our return!"

Nicolo put a comforting hand on Marco's shoulder and admonished his brother, "Oh, come, Maffeo, how you love a drama! Marco, our skins are precious to us both and we feel certain that, though the Khan will be displeased, he will not murder us. He does not do things without purpose and our death would serve none!"

The boy still looked worried. "But you do plan to return?"

Nicolo smiled. "I have a scheme for a triumphant return that would make his highness forget anything that went before. Marco, you could perhaps help in this. Which nobles, do you think, could help in pulling together a great fleet? This D'Angelo, for onewould he be willing to employ his ships? That is, of course, if we managed to help him free them from their impoundment at Laissus."

But Marco was caught on the bewildering contradiction of what he thought to be fact. "Father, the way to Cathay is by desert and mountain!" Nicolo made a vulgar sound. "Do you think I speak of ships that can cross sand and rocks, boy? I'm thinking of a fleet that would sail around India's oceans and into the very harbours of the Khan's own stronghold!" Nicolo's face showed its love of the dream of such a feat. "Think of the force of it, boy! Why, even the Khan must admit his armies and fierce war machines cannot swim the seas! He will again be impressed by the invincibleness of Christendom and forget his game of matching our strengths and weaknesses!"

Maffeo ventured doubt. "Nicolo, you have confused me, too. You know there are hazards in such sailing as we never encountered on land."

But Nicolo still had his vision of sailing, triumphant and God-like, into the Khan's own port. "I have vision of one sea journey joined to another, and then another, and still another. Of course we would have the best seamen, Maffeo, and do all we could to overcome hazards! All of Christendom would thank us, since there would be no armies soon marching over our borders!"

Marco asked intently, "What has held the Khan's armies from marching against us already, sire?"

Nicolo reached over to lightly slap his son's beardless cheek; "Because, little wolf, he has not the taste for bloodsport that his great grandsire, the Genghis, had. If you are truly devout, pray your thanks that the terrible Genghis died just as our borders were being reached by his war-mongers. And give praise that, in the custom of those barbaric tribes, the armies were called back and our civilization escaped overpowering!"

Maffeo added, "But try to tell those in Rome, and here, too, that it is not wise to have disdain for threats which rumble so far from our borders!" Nicolo shook his head sadly. "It is not wise, either, to assume this Khan is not as fond of conquest as his ancestor. He simply loves softer and craftier ways of increasing his kingdoms. How the Great Khan loves a sly trick!"

Marco said softly, "And how you love and admire this Great Khan, father! But still you think him more crafty than sincere. Why can you not accept that his request for priests and holy oil did not hold deeper thoughts of conquest?"

Knowing Nicolo's impatience with piety, Maffeo interceded hastily, "Brother, do not forget that young Marco has not lived among the Tartars as we have. He has no real knowledge of their ways and thoughts."

Nicolo let out his breath and grinned at his son. "Ah, Marco, your uncle does well to remind me how wrong I am to assume a boy of sixteen summers can judge deep characters! Forget these grown men's worries, son, and tell me more of this place where I go tonight. I have learned your ears are close to the cobblestones of the city!"

Marco blushed with pleasure, the compliment overriding the jibe at his immaturity. "Well, if you would know about Lord D'Angelo before I tell you about the Lady Valentina, I can tell you they are saying hereabouts that his fortunes teeter on the verge of ruin. He has been plagued by troubles no one man should endure, if he be honest and hardworking. Some of his misfortune comes from the Duke of Padua's dtiress; and unfortunately the death of His Holiness came before D'Angelo's complaint against the Duke's trespass could be decided."

Brilliant eyes narrowed. "Odd we should both be affected by the lack of a Pope! Our troubles seem to parallel. What of D'Angelo's merchantile franchise?"

How manly Marco was feeling under this rare attentiveness! "In dire straits along with all else the noble owns! Genoa cut off the best of his fleet, and what merchant can use his franchise with empty ships rotting in the Laissus harbour?"

Maffeo joined in, knowing much about trade business. "It is not like Venetian trade lords to wait on the weak. Why has D'Angelo been left his franchise?"

The boy answered smugly, glad to be able to speak so knowledgeably. "The noble holds great respect from the highborns, who loved his father and now him. But the common trade thinks they will not hold back much longer!"

Maffeo shot a keen glance at his brother. "And this is the man you think will be of use to your scheme? Better concentrate on his wardor is she, too, beggared?" This to Marco.

But the boy gave this news to his father, who he knew was personally interested in all he heard of the Contessa. Valentina Fezzio de Cortivanni. "Her fortune is intact, my good sire. The noble is her legal guardian and not a blood relative. Even if he were scurrilous enough to waste her funds, he would be prevented from doing so by our law."

Nicolo did not know D'Angelo's ethics and he had been long away from Venetian laws. "And does your gossip tell you he has not, with or without the legal privilege, boy?"

Marco shook his head firmly. "He has not. Her fortune is safely separate from his own!"

Nicolo pressed further, the scheme occuring to him at first sight of Valentina making him eager for details. "And what of his other . . . er, privileges, son; has this man D'Angelo taken the advantage of a beautiful ward who owes him much?"

The boy blushed painfully, not being schooled in man/woman relationships. But he knew what his father meant, and answered bravely, ''I . . . I am sure he has not, my Lord, in the manner you mean. In truth the lady has been kept cloistered and in separate quarters from his own . . . and they say he spends no time in her company." He added shyly, "And neither have other young heirs who would love to woo her and her fortune."

Nicolo's eyes glowed. What luck! The girl was a virgin, as well as rich and beautifuland adventurous! He had not dared to hope for such a windfall. Maffeo's quizzical looks made him say quickly to his son, "Do not think badly of me for such prying questions, Marco! I am not a womanizer, though you may think so, having knowledge of the Northborn slave we keep in quarters above." The boy blushed uncertainly; indeed he had wondered about that beauty, whom his father never seemed to approach. Nicolo said, not unkindly, "I had not told you, but the slave girl is a gift for the Khan."

Seeing the boy still fidgeted from questions that brought his mother's recent departure to mind, Maffeo had pity. "I think you have given us your best, Marco, and should take your leave. Your father and I have many business matters before us and need privacy before our evening's venture."

He hardly waited until the boy had gone before asking his brother with unusual sharpness, "So what is this about the Contessa's virginity, Nicolo? I recall you were most careful to establish chastity, also, in the slave Melisse whom you bought for the Khan. Is there some new scheme working in your . . . God's teeth! I have it! I knew when I saw the beautiful young Valentina at the Doge's, I had seen such looks another place!" His eyes bulged at his brother, who smiled back calmly. "They are alike exactlyexcept for colour! The Lady Valentina, greenish eyes and red-gold hair; the slave Melisse, dark hair and blue eyes! Yet the two are twins in features and size! Both virgins and . . ." Maffeo stared at his brother. "No wonder you stared so! The puzzle did not elude you as to where the Lady Valentina's stamp of beauty already resided! Nicolo, I know your crafty turn of mind; what plan has come to you, seeing these dark and light complements of beauty?"

Nicolo laughed softly, his eyes looking far into the distance as though seeing some exciting picture there. "Can you not imagine my delight, seeing last night the slave I bought so dearly in different colour? We both know how bored the Great Khan has been with Turkoman slaves of ordinary beauty. Do you not think he would be pleased to see me sail in with not one, but TWO greatly matched, exotic beauties? It would be talked of at the courts for years to come, Maffeo! Your brother would have made his legend among the Tartar princelings! To sail into the Khan's port with the Sun and the Moon aboardbeautiful Night and Day as splendid gifts to the Great Kublai Khan!"

Maffeo could not prevent being caught in his brother's glowing fantasy. But realism, as always, made him question. "What will bring the Lady Valentina to your side?"

Nicolo looked sober for a moment. "I have marked her well, brother. Not just her beautythe woman herself. She is an exquisite, many-petalled flower, who yearns to open to the warmth of the sun and the refreshing dew of faraway lands! I recognize such cravings in others, Maffeo!"

"I don't know, Nicolo! I do not know about this one. There is something about her . . . something that defies my telling it in simple terms. I sense she is one of those who cause the great wheel to turn from its set path to unknown ruts . . ." But Nicolo was still caught up in his fancies and did not give his usual attention to Maffeo's prophecy. He could not know at that time how right his brother was; that Valentina would indeed upset his plans, more than once.

He only knew that somehow he must work it so that the Contessa Valentina Fezzio de Cortivanni, with her fortune, exquisite beautyand maidenheadintact, would return with him to Cathay.

"Tell me, Maffeo: you have always been the anchor for my dreamssometimes weighing me down, true!but ever providing stability. Tell me truly: do you think the sea journey I describe can be done? Or do you think my dream foolish and impossible?"

Maffeo would not say, being experienced in the knowledge that destiny was not always a respecter of dreams.

Chapter Three

Nicolo and Valentina

Floria's Return

It was almost time for their guests to start arriving. The Villa Fornaldo had never looked so festive, not in the entire time Valentina had lived there. Aunt Fornaldo had seen to candles on every table, that, when lit, made the house seem ablaze. Everywhere were fresh flowers, and the huge kitchen, with its groaning tables of food, was a delight to sight and smell.

The kitchen was where Valentina came to show off her gown to her aunt and two of her favorite maids. "Well, Aunt, will I do well enough to stand by your side?" She whirled gracefully, so dazzling in her creamy silk gown that neither Aunt nor the kitchen girls could speak.

After she had overcome her deep shock at the disturbing new allure of her protégé, Aunt Fornaldo reverted to her usual fussiness. "The dress becomes you well enoughthough it will not if you keep whirling about so near the gravies! Oh, dear, the gravies! They must be kept in the oven for warming. And where, God help me, is that lazy butcher who was to help with the carving . . .?" Valentina hastily exited, seeing that her aunt was in too much of a dither to take note of her finery.

But the girl was mistaken; her chaperone had indeed noticed every detail, and was far more agitated over the voluptuous aura (though she could not put that name to it, being so proper) surrounding Valentina than by worries of gravy going cold.

Pia, whom Valentina met flying down the hall, had a more gratifying response to her friend's grandeur. She clapped her hands together in delight; "Oh, how lovely, darling!" But then Pia's pert face pouted at the low cut of Valentina's gown. "Of course, he would never allow me to show so much bosom . . ." Pia, busy tugging at the neck on her blue satin, missed the look on Valentina's face at this innocent reference to D'Angelo.

But the young Contessa would not let the twinge of jealousy spoil her evening; head held high, Pia pattering after her, she marched to the salon to await their guests.

D'Angelo, already at his post as official host, looked unexpectedly young and handsome in rich velvets and silks. She blushed when he leaned outrageously low over her hand and let only her see his relish of her deep show of bosom. His whisper mocked, "Do not curtsey so low, dear ward, as it will make the down-canal gentleman lose all sensibility to his speeches."

Her retort went unheard as the first guests were announced.

All those invited came, as the Polos now had the social sanction of the Doge and could be received in the best families. It was not long before the guests of honour were once more holding forth with bold accounts of their adventures, Pia's song having been reserved for last. This time Valentina found herself able to view more noticingly the man himself. She admired his lean graceno softness or fat to be seen, though Nicolo had not the tallness of his brother, nor D'Angelo. And those eyes! How they spoke to her alone when they came to rest on her face! He had no need for words with such expressive eyes!

Valentina was abruptly distracted from her reverie by D'Angelo; whose words came sharper by virtue of his observation of the girl's absorption with Nicolo. "Valentina, our guests await your and Pia's harmony. I have promised you will join our songbird with your flute."

The girl bowed to her guardian, but directed her soft words toward Nicolo: "It will be my honour, kind sir, though there can be no more entrancing music than the adventures which Lord Polo has honored us with this evening."

Nicolo returned her direct gaze, taking this advantage to examine more closely the perfect features. I was right; she is perfection itself! His velvet tones thrilled her. "The Contessa provides such an audience as to make my stories more worthy of hearing. Might I presume to continue any sagas of your choosing tomorrow, privately?" He bowed to D'Angelo. "With your esteemed guardian's permission, of course!"

D'Angelo said stiffly, "It will be an honour to my ward and this house, Lord Polo." The decision to allow the adventurer access to Valentina was painful, but he knew to refuse was only to delay the course of things. Valentina, like it or not, was at the center of the game which he and Nicolo would soon start playing.

The two men watched as Valentina assumed an elegant stance next to Pia. D'Angelo waited until the sweet concert was begun, then whispered, "Lord Polo, I believe we have matters of mutual interest to discuss. Let us quietly withdraw to my private quarters here."

Nicolo nodded, quickly withdrawing his admiring gaze from the lovely performers, and followed his host. He knew the time for socializing had passed and the real reason for his being asked here tonight would be laid on the table.

Nicolo was a man who had learned to wait patiently. He kept silence while D'Angelo fetched them both glasses of his best wine. Steely eyes met dark ones over the silent toast. D'Angelo was first to speak, though he recognized the other man's strategy.

"I will come to the point, Polo. Unlike your Tartars and Mongols, I do not dance the dance of parables and riddles. Even if there were time, I prefer getting quickly to the heart of the matter." Nicolo nodded, a slight smile at his lips, but waited silently. "You have heard rumours of my . . . difficulties?"

"Rumours, yesas, no doubt, you have heard suppositions about me."

D'Angelo grinned. "Surely even the deafest crone in Venice has by now heard about the famous Polos!" He said carefully, "I hear more recently a more specific piece of news: that you and your brother will soon depart for Acre."

"It seems wise; letters from my friend, the Archbishop there, will give the Khan to whom I return a more formal proof of my efforts in his behalf." Nicolo's smile was rueful. "Letters! It is not a grand gift! I had hoped to leave Venice with more of value."

D'Angelo carefully studied his wine glass. "A wife, perhaps, with a substantial fortune?" "A pearl among beauties, with the charm of a hundred songbirds."

D'Angelo drained his glass. "I return to candor. You have some notion of marrying my ward, if she is willing, and taking her on your devilish journey to this heathen land?"

Nicolo said smoothly, his face hiding the surprise he felt that the noble had so quickly approached the subject of Valentina, "You have the spirit of my intent, though not its order. I can marry no woman without first receiving the solemn blessing of the Great Khan."

He could not know with what relief D'Angelo received this news that Valentina would not be rushed into wedding vows. D'Angelo would have the time he needed! But the bargain must still be made to insure her protection and his advancement; he pretended sternness. "You must think me a fool, Nicolo. You would ask me my blessing on my ward's being hauled half-way around the world, when she may find nothing but poor reputation and no marriage?"

Nicolo shrugged. "The lady herself will decide if the risk is worth takingand my brief acquaintance with this young Valentina gives me hope she will decide in my favour! Come now, D'Angelo, you speak of candor, yet you would have me believe you will give your ward in betrothal to me with no bargain for yourself?"

The two men locked gazes, then both laughed, knowing full well wha was at stake for D'Angelo. The noble said lightly, though Nicolo was aware he meant it, "I give Valentina to no one, but will agree to her being willingly affiancedon two conditions. The first is that I be allowed to accompany you on this journey, with my selected entourage . . ." Nicolo's smile did not reach his eyes. "No stiff requisition, thatfor me, anyway! And the second condition?"

"That you use the Khan's chop to try to free my impounded vessels at Laissus."

D'Angelo was surprised to see the other's face break into soft laughter, the noble being unaware of Nicolo's scheme of sailing into the Khan's harbour. "Forgive me, D'Angelo! I find it richly amusing that your second condition should be so much the easier of the two!"

"You find it difficult to accept me as a travelling mate on the journey to Cathay?"

Nicolo had no wish to offend the man, not now that everything was fitting so well into his plans. "It is not I who will be like to suffer, D'Angelo. It is only that you are so used to all this . . ." His arm swept the luxurious trappings of D'Angelo's suite, the soft tricklings of the perfumed fountain outside the open window. "I can only wonder if you realize the true hardships of our travelsthe burning, searing, fatiguing trials of hard journeyings."

D'Angelo voice gave no quarter, personally irked that Nicolo assumed him weaker than himself. "The choice is yoursafter Valentina's, of course. Either she and I both go, or neither."

Something moved in the dark eyes. "Then your going will depend on Valentina's response to my suit."

"One other thing, Nicolo: by your own admission, my ward's ultimate status will be dependent on your admired Khan's blessing . . ."

Nicolo waited. "A formality . . . yes?"

D'Angelo looked him straight in the eye. "She will be treated as inviolable on the journey to Cathay?"

How the other's secret laughter bubbled deep within him. He halfway wished he could share the joke of how he was as anxious to preserve Valentina's virginity as was her guardian! But Eastern training kept the smooth features solemn. "Her only complaint will be that her betrothed has no time for wooing when he is on his life's business!"

D'Angelo withheld his own secret laughter at the thought that, if all went as it should, their journey's end would find him again wealthy and the sole owner of Valentina's heart and body!

He sounded cheerful as he led his guest from the room, "We will make further plans for our departure, Nicolobut now it behooves us to return for the applause of the delicate talents we sadly missed. Your suit may have a rough time of it if Valentina suspects you do not admire her flute-playing!"

Many miles from Venice where Valentina and her friends still revelled, lengthening shadows fell across the path of one whose life had not been so successful as her friend's.

Floria, former maid to Tina Cortivanni, hastened home to appease her woodsman husband with a gift of quail afforded from the nearby villa where she worked.

Her steps slowed, however, as they had frequently lately when directed toward the poor cottage where she lived with Darth. How could so much kindness be lost in a man between the wedding vows of two years back and now? Her lips curled in bitterness when she remembered how confidently she had left her two companions after the siege of Cortivanni Villa; had she really thought to be mistress of a pleasant, independent household of her own?

Her derisive laugh startled a wood creature, who darted back to its burrow. Floria shifted her sack and muttered to the rattling leaves, ''I wish I had some hole in the forest instead of the pig's hut I go to! 'Mistress Floria'! Mistress to a pig's hut and a selfish lout of a husband!" She gazed dreamily off in the direction of the crumbling Villa Cortivanni. "At least there I was warm and my belly full . . . there was fresh bedding each night and perfumed garden smells coming in my window, small as it was . . ."

The girl stopped to ease her thin body from its weariness. A soft bed of straw allowed her to stretch languorously in much the same sensuousness of the old Floria. But as the rough peasant cloth fell back from her forearm, she noted with disgust how scrawny she'd become: why, another twelve-months of this poor life you lead, wench, and you'll be a dried-up old hag! It hurt her to remember how her husband, Darth, had complained of her skinniness only last evening as he was mounting her. How the words had barbed, though she did not love him!

"The meat is gone from you, woman! There is nothing for me to feel beneath my weight." He had cursed at her bones but did not leave off a continuous pounding between her thin thighs. He seemed to take his only pleasure from hurting her, often squeezing her still full breasts with rough hands and twisting the nipples as his passion peaked.

Floria's lips were raw even now where she had bitten them against the pain of her long nights with the rutting animal she had married. Her pride would not let her cry out, though the evening before her spirit had returned briefly to make her cry out, "You filthy animal! Is there no love, no softness left in you for one you begged to wed you long ago when I was still Cortivanni maid?" She had rolled away from his demanding nakedness, loathing him for using her so crudely with no thoughts to her own tender needs. Even Volcar had been less selfish with another's body!

The penalty of lashing out at this brute and a world turned sour had of course been the blows that Darth placed so carefully that her face was never marked. The master who paid her for drudgery looked sternly on domestic squabbles.

Floria held a hand against the still tender bruise on her arm, musing aloud, "None among the Cortivannis would ever have treated me so!" She leaned her head back, thinking of the last of that grand family. "I wonder how my sweet Valentina is at this moment? Did she fall prey to that handsome noble whose lust strained at his pretty breecheseven while he fought to hide it?" She put a pine straw to her lips, dreaming now, and smiling. "If I were there, the young Contessa would see to it that I had pretty dresses, the second sitting at mealtimes, and a roomwhat matter how small?to myself." She paused for a moment in her fantasizing, remembering the promise of gold.

But she, in her peculiar sense of justice had foresworn claim to that reward, never mentioning it to Darth, in penance for her momentary evil scheme.

She must have been mad to think of ousting the real Valentina from her place!

Wearily, the girl pulled herself up, hoping that by now Darth had stupefied his small brain with enough wine that she would not be forced to hear his insults regarding the lateness of supper.

But the small cottage was not quiet; with sinking heart Floria saw that her husband had visitors, and from the sound of it, all had partaken freely of spirits. Floria for a short moment thought of flight, but it was not her nature to run from the fray. She braced her slight shoulders, shifted her sack of quail and stepped inside the house.

Three pairs of red-rimmed eyes greeted her entry; she did not miss that, while Darth's gaze went to the game bag, the other two men stripped her body of its poor clothing with hungry, insolent stares. At least they find me better to look at than a sack of dead birds! she thought with some rag of her tattered sense of humour. Then without a greeting, she went to the cold fire to poke it into flames enough to roast the quail. "You'll be staying for the evening meal, I suppose?"

She spent little time bemoaning the fact that with extra mouths to feed, there would be none for her; her thought was for escaping the room at the earliest moment possible. She had encountered her husband's colleagues before, and had suffered their lewd attempts to paw her breast or grab at her thighs quite enough times. Darth would have, during the first weeks of their marriage, thrown such offenders out, but now he even seemed to find it amusing when Floria skirted a hairy, reaching hand or barely escaped from filling wine mugs with her neckcloth intact.

When sober, he would kill any poacher on the grounds that Floria was his property and for his use alone, no nobler concept!

"Darth, I'll be going out back to see to the woodpile. The kitchen at the villa has it that cold weather will be upon us within the week." She cast a contemptuous look at the leaner and hungrier-looking of the two woodsmen, who gnawed at his quail no more greedily than he eyed Floria's slim hips. "Your friends seem well cared for enough." Her own empty stomach cried out to add more insult to her words, but she did not dare.

The man who had been staring at her throughout the serving of the simple meal said softly, "There are ways we could be cared for, Mistress Floria, that could fill more than our belly." Floria quickly looked at Darth to see the effect of this lewd suggestion, but her husband was far gone on the wine that the other man kept replenishing, and only laughed.

Floria left quickly, determined to seek cover soon within the woods. There were no creatures in the forest more predatory than the panting, lusting animals in the kitchen.

She chopped cursorily at the wood, so that those inside might not wonder, then lay down her ax carefully, listening for any sound.

There was only quiet; she softly made her way through the cleared space which lay between her and the shadowy trees. Just as she reached the wood, one of the shadows stepped out, blocking her path. She knew before it spoke that it was the tall hunter and her heart threatened to choke her.

"You be leaving before we thank you properly for your fine dinner, Mistress."

"Where's Darth?" Floria's sinking heart knew the answer, even before a second shadow coming up from behind her, told her.

"He was bound to drink the last of Pietro's wine, sweet girlthough we told him he was a fool to go to sleep leaving a pretty wife with no husband to warm her bed on a chilly night."

Floria darted between the two men, toward the wood, but they caught her effortlessly between them. The one who was lean and dark pulled her bodice down so that the girl's heaving breasts shone white in the moonlight. More angry than terrified, Floria lashed out at her assailants, trying to protect herself against the pawing, clutching hands which were at once tearing at her clothes and taking vulgar. liberties with the flesh thus exposed.

"Monsters! I will see you rot in Hell before you use me so! Beasts! Stinking animals . . . Oh!" The lash across her face stunned her into silence as the shorter assailant caught her arms, the other man her legs and the two laid her between the two posts Darth had pounded in for measuring wood. Still dazed by the cruel blow, Floria could not protest when her wrists were shackled with rope. The pain in the cruel tying went unnoticed as a greater discomfort came from the wide spreadeagle position to which her legs were most roughly pulled. She weakly spat more curses at the taller man, who stood grinning down at her as he shed stained leggings and waved his hugely erect member at her.

"You'll be cooing like the pigeons you brought home, darling, as soon as you feel a real man inside you. Has that drunken husband ever stirred your juices with so fine a ladle as this?" With that her attacker leapt upon the helpless girl, who would have spat into the rough-shaven face so close to hers, had not her throat been dry beyond tolerance. The man seemed proud of his lovemaking, slowly savoring the working of his length into Floria's softness, then pulling upward to tease at her belly with his penis.

God help me, the bastard fancies himself a woman-killer, thought Floria hysterically, as her unloved lover, panting with building passion, slammed down into her, this time twisting and grinding painfully, as though he would hollow a new sheath for his knife.

But even that was better than his play with wet tongue over her lips and throat and breasts. Please, please, hurry and have done with this, you bastard! Her prayers were cut short by spastic squeezes of her breasts as the man curved backward off her, straining to thrust his assault to her very depths; Floria groaned and moved unwittingly. The man was excited by what he mistook as cooperation in the coupling; he grunted and set to his motions in earnest, not stopping the thundering strokes until the peak of his passion, when he gasped and clawed his victim till she thought he would go on forever.

But Pietro was done, spent by the unaccustomed passion and the preceding wine; he rolled off Floria with a weak boast to his companion. "The satyrs take you for their king if you top that love-bath, Napiro! I swear the wench has drained my piece dry of all love liquid!"

Napiro had not waited for the invitation, but was already atop poor Floria, who hardly felt this second onslaught at all, her present assailant's manhood being as stunted as his height.

He was sensitive, though, and more cruel than Pietro, no doubt due to his inferior size. Floria bore the biting, sharp teeth on her lips, tongue, breasts, wherever the man could reach, in stoic silence, until his final ecstasy, when the exhausted girl fainted quietly away.

The two men rose unsteadily to their feet, looking down at the prostrate girl, their confidence waning with their lust. "Darth will not like this, Pietro! He cares little for the wench when in his cupsbut I have seen him maim any who touched his woman when he is sober!"

The two woodsmen looked at each other nervously. Still numbed by spirits and this rare repletion of their passions, the men looked from the dark cottage back to the ravaged girl at their feet . . . to the woodsman's ax lying nearby.

The dark hunter spoke first. "It would be no lossnot to the world, nor this woman he abused so!"

The smaller man looked hesitant, remembering the taste of the soft skin, the tender flesh he had just enjoyed. "But they will blame it on the girl, Pietro! All have heard of how she hates his misuse of her!"

The taller shrugged as he bent down to pick up the ax. "Then none will blame her for a mistreated wife's revenge! But we twowe would be blamed for the worse crime than a brutal husband's murder. Come, Napiro; help me with her body."

Without further conscience, the two marauders released the girl's arms, then dragged her limp body back to the cottage, which still echoed with Darth's drunken snores. Pietro hesitated briefly before hefting the ax above Darth's stretched throat, then came down with a sickening 'thwack!' as Napiro watched in morbid fascination.

The half-decapitated man felt nothing of his transport from this world to the next.

Their inherent evil no longer submerged, the two set about disguising their crime. Floria was draped across her dead husband, the bloody ax laid at her fingertips. Satisfied that none would see traces of their involvement, the two looked about quickly, slyly taking the few objects of value and concealing them in their pouches.

Napiro turned once at the door to view the scene they left behind them. On seeing him lick his fat lips at the glimpse of Floria's buttocks bared so vulnerably, Pietro pulled him roughly outside. "Enough of that, fool! Would you risk the gruel of prison for another short love-feast? Come, we must be far away by dawn."

It was fully an hour later when Floria roused herself. When her dazed eyes saw Darth's gaping wound and the blood all around her, she thought her cruel treatment had caused her to go mad. Afraid to scream, to move, she reached out a shaking hand to the still man who lay beneath her. "Darth?" There was, of course, no response, nor any sign of heartbeat. And how could there be, with such a wound? "Darth!" Suddenly overcome by fear and revulsion, she ran to the door and flung it wide, taking great gulps of the cool night air, hoping to vanquish this nightmare that had not ended with her ravishment.

The sounds of nightbirds, the wind rushing through the trees, a cock crowing far in the distanceall promised a return to normality. But this was destroyed when she turned back to see once more the hideous, bleeding lump that was once her husband.

Floria talked to herself, as she had since but a child. "Now, see here, my girl, you must take hold of yourself. You have been most savagely mistreated . . ." Indeed her body ached from its misuse, as her breasts and lips stung from the woodsmen's unkind treatment and the lower part of her felt most cut to pieces; ". . . but that poor man there has born the ultimate cruelty! And you, my girl, will be made to suffer even more, if you're found here with blood on your hands. Likely you will be strung up at the nearest tree with none to wait for your words of how this horror came to pass!"

For Floria, her senses regained, had no doubt of who was responsible for this murder; the fiends had almost murdered her, had they not? She pondered the scene before her almost serenely, the corpse of her husband seeming now more a thing to be dealt with than a man who had shared her bed the two years past. Her musing continued.

"Now what am I to do? If I run from here, to the villa yonder or to town, they will come back to find nothing to back my tale but poor Darth, dead, and their eyes will turn to me in accusation, remembering the dreadful quarrels I spoke of at the villa's kitchen. Not one will forget Darth's drunken mistreatment of me and my quick temper that he sought heartily to subdue the two years we've been married!" She bit her lip, not feeling the pain. "There is too much bloodmy husband is too stout to haul to a secret grave. Besides, there would be the question of his whereabouts, and I would not be easy in the matter for all my life to come." Again the lip was worried by small white teeth. "It will answer the magistrates only if we are both gone . . . both thought to be killed . . ."

Her mind resolved on what must be done, she rose to clean herself as best she could before putting on the best of her garments. A small bag easily held her limited possessions; she cursed softly when she realized that the foul woodsmen had robbed her of more than her dignity.

But Floria was not one to dwell on things already past. At the moment, her only thought was for quitting the cottage and dead husband as quickly as she might.

It took all her strength to fight off rising nausea while setting fire to the bed that would be her husband's funeral pyre. There was no cause to brandish her fire stick further about the room; the cottage was quick tinder to the licking flames, and it was all Floria could do to escape out the front door before the house became a blazing torch lighting up the dawning day.

She did not look back. She took with her all that she treasured most; her strength of character, her will to be free, and her quick mind. Her strongest hope was that Valentina would be as pleased to see her as she, Floria, was to be rid at last (thought the cost had been dear to her personal dignity) of her dreary husband and her miserable married life.

The child that quickened within her belly, though conceived in coldness from Darth three months before, would set eyes first on the gentility of a noble household, not on the squalor of a pig's hut! Pia's anxious face was comical in its contrivings to be fair. "Dear Valentina, I cannot know what business the poor little ragamuffin has with yourself, but she waits outside in the antechamber, where I hid her lest the Contessa caught sight of her and had her cast out as a beggar."

Valentina was preparing herself most carefully for this first call upon her by a gentleman other than D'Angelo, and gave little attention to Pia's babblings. "Pia, the mystery can be solved easily; just fetch her here and let us ask the creature directly why she asks for me!" But she felt guilty as so often she did of late when addressing Pia in the sharp manner that seemed to come without will and said more softly, "You know I have none of my dear adopted Aunt's snobbery toward riff-raff; I say, kindness is not wasted on poor souls."

Inspired by this democratic charitableness, Pia was off in an instant to collect Floria, whom she led into the room by one thin hand.

The two girlsone maid, the other Countessone, blooming, the other bedraggledstared at each other, Floria overcome by Valentina's matured splendor, and the latter shaken to her core by Floria's pitifulness.

"Floria! Oh, my poor Floria, what have they done to you?" And Valentina wept inwardly, not so much at her former maid's wan thinness, straggly hair and ragged clothes, as at the sunken, defeated look of the once spunky girl. "Oh, Floria! How did you come to this sorry state? My love, I weep to find you have suffered so terribly after you left us. I did not know . . . !"

Floria attempted to speak, but could not over the flood of tears that engulfed her, whereupon the two friends fell into each other's arms, babbling and weeping incoherently, to Pia's wide-eyed bewilderment.

Their speeches were as entangled as the girls themselves. Pia looked from one to the other, trying to make sense of the strange babblings; but, soon, feeling like an intruder, simply slipped from the room to leave the two young women to their emotional reunion.

''You were supposed to come for your gold!"

"Valentina, I vow I have never seen such a vision as yourself! You have grown lovelier these two years than ten of the world's beauties!"

"You must eat . . . we will fatten you up . . ."

"The Noble D'Angelo . . . ? Did he learn soon after my leaving that you were the real heiress?"

"Oh, Floria, those awful bruises . . . ! Your poor face! Oh, my dear, have you been hideously abused? Did you fall from your horse coming here?"

"No horse, my love! And no matter, the bruises; they already heal wondrously at sight of your kind and pretty face! Please, I beg of you, ask no more of me! I must know about you since my reluctant abandonment of you . . ." Floria seemed near fainting from exhaustion, though, and her mistress would not talk further till the girl was led to a lounge and made to lie down. A wine jug was brought and the girl's pale lips tempted with a large draught of spirits.

"There, drink deep. It will take that deathly grey from your poor face! The stories have kept these two twelve-months; they can surely hold for your recovery, dear Floria."

The wine did bring new color to the pale cheeks and quiet to the trembling limbs. Floria even managed a smile for her old friend and mistress, though it was little kin to the gay looks that Valentina remembered. "My thanks to you, dear Contessa! I knew I would meet with charity here, if no other place!"

Valentina gave the girl a hug. "Charity! Floria, have you forgotten it was you, and you alone, who kept me from the likes of Volcar? It will take more than a sip of wine and welcoming words to ever repay such unselfish devotion!"

Floria seemed near to weeping again with the relief of her warm reception. "We speak no more of that, Lady, as memories of what passed at your poor parents' villa had best be left to the dark corridors of our mind. I do find it pressing at my tongue to ask about the mercenary who so ill-used me. I feared his obsession would lead him to try to kidnap you, or worse!"

Valentina shook her head. "I have not seen the evil Volcar, thank God, and it will not be too long if I never see him, dear friend!" She shivered. "The man was so heartless to all I loved that my dreams are still haunted by him. And though I forget his face by some blessed magic, the eyes still peer at me sometimes through what must be the gates of Hell! Often I think I glimpse him here, staring from a passing gondola, or watching from a shadowy window!"

Floria was silent; knowing Volcar, it would not be unlike him to spy on Valentina from secret alleys here in Venice, until his opportunity to fulfill his threats to have her! But Valentina had no more need for such dark threats. "The man has no doubt gone on to terrorize other helpless households, far from here! But you still have not given me news of the nobleman in whose care you were left. Has D'Angelo been kind to you in his guardianship?" Floria, even in her exhausted state, did not miss the deep blush that suffused her friend's beauty. She asked slyly, "Or did our handsome knight of mercy take to wardship more than Don Cortivanni's coffers and estates?"

Valentina shook her head furiously. "He has seen to it that I am cared for; do not speak rubbish about other things! The noble is far too sophisticated to have serious thoughts toward a child by comparison."

Floria said drily as she stretched back against the soft pillows with a great sigh, "I know well that this 'child' I look at now has a face like the statues they tell of in Rome and a body rivalling the Doge's courtesanwho they say has breasts which in size triple the circle of her waist!"

"Floria!"

The maid realized that such teasing was not altogether offensive and went on, raising herself up on a bony elbow, "I have not been a virgin, love, for more years than I can count, and I hold myself no authority on the matter . . . but I still recognize the unmistakable air of one who has never . . . ah . . . known a man! And you, dear Valentina, I suspect, have had more to your love life than a few genteel garden parties!"

Valentina's scarlet face told more than she would admit to. "If you knew how tightly D'Angelo has kept me guarded, you would know there could be no place for any indiscretions! As for my guardian . . ." Valentina decided desperately that Pia could be sacrificed to her desire for secrecy! "Well, I must tell you he favours the young woman, Pia, who was just with us!"

Floria was truly astonished. "You can not say so! The child who billed and cooed so tenderly over my hard looks? That little dove fancied by D'Angelo?" The girl chewed a nail thoughtfully. "It is most surprising, those two. I would have thought . . . Hmm." She shrugged, to Valentina's disappointment. Floria's opinion on the sensitive subject would be most welcome! "Well, perhaps like some men he has a taste for a woman who's quicker in the ass than the brain . . . ! Oh, my dear Valentina, forgive me! The girl is your companion, and I offend you!"

"No, I merely forgot how plainly you are prone to say things, love." But Valentina wished the subject closed and turned nursemaid again, pushing Floria back to the couch and covering her up so thoroughly that Floria complained in muffled tones through the cloth.

"I am in poor health, admittedly, lovebut I have no need yet for a shroud! Must you stuff these covers up to my eyeballs?" But Valentina shushed her and tiptoed out and by the time she reached the door Floria was already fast asleep.

Standing outside the door to the room wherein the exhausted maid slept, Valentina grinned to herself, imagining the confusion on D'Angelo's face when he saw again the woman whom he'd first met as the Contessa Valentina Fezzio de Cortivanni!

But now she must go down to await Lord Nicolo Polo's visit.

The mirrored image of herself she glimpsed on her way into the receiving room showed flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. And no wonder! Her life had become almost unbearably exciting of late: the fête at the Palace . . . D'Angelo's unexpected lovemaking (how her cheeks burned at that memory!) . . . the Polos'thrilling tales last evening here in this very villa . . . Floria's return . . . But on this last item, her thoughts turned sober, for the girl's appearance had been a shock. "Well, we'll just have to fatten her up and get her well again!" And again her dimples appeared, when she thought how D'Angelo would receive the news of this new addition to the Fornaldo household. But the Countess' front hall gave sounds of her guest's arrival and she made rapid change of demeanor to that of hostess. Though her curtsey to Nicolo Polo was the peak of gentility, it went wasted, as her gown was cut quite as revealingly as the one worn the night before which had caused D'Angelo to comment.

Her visitor's smooth control of his outward features still served him well; Valentina could not suspect as she greeted the man that he was thinking, The girl is as ripe and lush as the grape matured to bursting! Before a night of my tutelage passed, she would be love-goddess fitting for the Khan's boudoir. A shame she must be kept virgin!

The girl also could not know that even as he spoke in so gentlemanly a fashion, the man was scheming how to get her off privately that he might make certain tests of her sensuality. The Great Khan was most particular and hated sluggish passions in his concubines! So often these high-blooded women could be cold . . .

". . . again in your debt, for so graciously receiving me, Mistress Valentina. I had thought last night in its splendid hospitableness should have relieved Villa Fornaldo of all responsibility to Nicolo Polo!"

The girl's grave manner was charming, as were her pretty manners. "Nonsense, my Lord Polo! It is my adopted aunt and uncleand of course my guardianwho owe you, sire, for giving our guests a most enjoyable evening of entertainment."

Polo bowed, though he was impatient to be done with this social see-saw of compliments. "Contessa, you flatter me, though I must still insist it was your accompaniment to the little songster's aria which made last evening memorable."

Valentina bit her tongue to keep from asking, Then why did you and my guardian depart for almost the entire performance? "Be that as it may, we will not argue further on who was outshone during last night's gala." Valentina arranged her full skirts as she sat herself on a taboret so that her visitor might sit next to her. Nicolo did so without hesitation. "Now, sir, I am ready to hear more of your stories. That is," she added demurely, ". . . if you feel your words are not wasted on so small an audience."

Nicolo wanted to smile at the obvious bid for more compliments, but protested gravely, "Lovely Lady, I would be content to spend the remainder of my days and nights here with none but yourself to hear my tales of adventure."

Valentina was highly flattered, but she demurred coquettishly, "Oh, but shame on you for thus plotting to deprive Venice's dullest ears of your spellbinding!" How Valentina was enjoying her role as flirt with this worldly gentleman! How she wished D'Angelo could be watching!

Recalling her duties as hostess, she sent for wine and poured while Nicolo pondered how to broach his real campaign. There was so little time that he must be bold to compact the courtship.

Valentina's brows arched at his pensiveness. "You think deeply, Lord Polo. Will you not tell me of what exotic land or great beauty your mind recalls at this instant?"

I am thinking about how best to win your troth and titillate your mind and body till there will be no thought for anything but following Nicolo Polo to the other side of the world . . ."Ah, I am thinking that I would love to trade my adventures for half the years squandered having them." A heavy sigh, then, "Have you any notion how young you seem to one who passes his mirror in great haste each morning?"

Valentina put a soft hand atop his dark one. "Oh, but dear Lord Polo, leave off this talk of being old! Why . . . why . . ." she struggled for a suitable disclaimer, "Why, if you are counted old, think how doddering that must make my poor aunt's esteemed husband . . . !" The two, remembering how Count Fornaldo had dozed and nodded throughout Nicolo's recounts of his travels made them laugh in unison. "You see my point? But, then," her lips tugged mischievously, "Poor Uncle, I suspect, was born with white goat-whiskers, and a sore rib from my aunt punching him to stay awake at entertainments!"

They laughed together once more, Nicolo by this time feeling easy enough to introduce his bold subject. "Valentina, I swear you rob me of the heaviness of years as no other could. How long since I laughed with such a beautiful young woman? How long since I found such a young woman . . . beautiful?" This last was said softly, so that Valentina ducked her glance.

"Your lady-wifewas she beautiful and cheery?" Curiosity peeked from behind the modest gaze.

Nicolo arranged his feature in sadness. In truth the dead wife was scarcely a memory to him, she having been wed to him by pact with some unknown relatives and a pious, meek little thing to boot. "Bless her departed soul, she was . . . er, not a woman of many moods, and loved her religion more than humour. A restless spouse and a son born in his wake and long absence no doubt gave her little to laugh about. But let us leave the subject, as mention of a half-grown son reminds me again of my great age!"

Valentina would have murmured disagreement again, but Nicolo dismissed her with a smile. "No, dear child, I have no illusions about the vast expanse between usin years. But what spurs me to bold hope is the closeness in natures, mine and yours. Our spirits seem to seek the same heights!" He leant closer to the girl, his lips barely touching her ear-lobes. "You felt it, too, Valentinathe timelessness between usfrom the first moment we saw each other. I, for one," his finger traced a delicious curve of throat and Valentina sat as though paralyzed, ". . . do not wish to lose this ageless bond in two people who have no need for earthbound measures of time . . ."

The intimate spell was broken when Pia stuck her head in at the door and, after apologizing profusely to Nicolo, spoke to Valentina in her sweet way: "My love, I have found clothes for the poor thing to wearthough they will hang on those sad bones!and have made special broth and thick bread for her waking. Shall I now have the Contessa minister to her bruises and dreadful scrapes?"

Nicolo listened with much confusion to this conversation which his companion apparently found not out of the ordinary, since she said quickly, "No, no, Pia! We must keep this to ourselves until I've had words with Aunt Fornaldo! I most particularly must ask you to see that the poor dear gets uninterrupted rest without any hue and cry from the household! I will speak with you later as concerns her disposition."

Pia hung her head like a small child who must confess to a miscreance. "But, Valentina, I will not be here, as I go to D'Angelo's villa. I have been here all afternoon, and he has said that he . . ."

Valentina interrupted her, signing silence on a matter that she would rather be kept from Nicolo. "No matter, Pia; I will speak to you later." Nicolo, much fascinated by all this, thought coolly, Ho, what sub-plot have we here involving the noble and this pretty soft-brain?

Valentina's dark looks toward her young friend caused Pia to back out quickly. As soon as she was gone, the other girl said with consternation, "Please forgive this little confusion, sire; it concerns a subject of no importance to our discussionwhich I hope you will feel constrained to continue now."

Nicolo, though himself curious over the little play, said smoothly, "I fear I disturb your busy day with my untimely visit and selfish conversation, dear Lady . . ."

His companion leaned toward him, all pink cheeks and luscious raptness; Nicolo fairly caught his breath at her beauty.

"Oh, no, dear Nicolo; pray go on with what I feel has much significance for one who has never talked so intimately with a man of your vast experience!"

Lord Polo coughed to cover his sudden confusion over a plan that had not taken into consideration the extraordinary appeal of this young woman. But recalling how much was at stake, he said softly, "Ah, you seek again to stroke me with your velvet words of flattery, dear Valentinawhereas it is I who would like to compose lyrics to your beauty, to your compassion . . . to the soaring spirit that I sense in you, which would love to seek the wonders outside these city walls . . ."

Indeed, Valentina did feel caught up in some sort of wonderthough whether from Nicolo's presence or the wine, she was not sure. But how much more appreciative of her inner feelings thanwell, D'Angelo, for onethis marvelous adventurer seemed!

Her face fell at voices in the hall; Nicolo was emboldened to whisper to her, "My dear, we can not continue without more privacy. Let me suggest how we might better discuss what none should hear but ourselves." And Nicolo spoke quietly into Valentina's ear, not missing the chance to let his lips caress at the fragrant lobe and soft tendrils of hair. The strongest of the voices belonged to the Contessa, who came in to find Lord Polo taking a courteous leave of his young hostess with many formal bows and resonant phrases. ". . . and, my dear Contessa Cortivanni, if there is any wayany way at allthat I or my brother can be of service to you or your esteemed aunt, I shall await your command."

As the senior countess assumed hostess role, fawning over her famous guest, Valentina exchanged a tiny nod with him and exited gracefully.

She had to restrain her dancing feet from running up the stairs to her quarters. How exciting it was! Another adventure: her first rendezvous, and that with a man of so much wisdom and importance! She abandoned decorum and lifted her skirts to take the last flight two steps at a time, already planning how she could arrange to meet secretly with her suitor in the garden that very night.

Floria was much improved after the sumptuous meal Pia had surreptitiously provided before leaving. "Already I feel new life and hope coursing through my veins, Valentina! Such a feast I have not had since being under your kind parents' roof. And this gown . . . !" She plucked happily at the soft dress Pia had also brought. "Ah, it is fit for wearing to a palace!" She saw Valentina's smile in the mirror where that young woman was arranging her shining tresses most becomingly and asked companionably, "And is that where my Lady goes this evening, so finely bedecked and coifed?"

Valentina let her eyes wander away from the direct gaze that had captured hers in the glass. "Fah, my dear! the fancy dressing we do here is more from habit than purpose. The Contessa feels that I must be becomingly gowned at the simplest dinner sitting!" No need to tell the girl of her plan to meet Nicolo at the gazebo long past the dinner hour. Her mind was already at work devising a way in which Floria's unknown presence in the villa could help her.

''If you are always to look so beautiful as now, the Fornaldo dining salon must nightly be crammed with admirers! My dear Valentina, are you quite certain your aunt requires a gown so low-bodiced and narrow at the waist?"

Valentina did indeed look fetching, her midnight-blue gown showing off to perfection the creamy skin and voluptuous charms of its wearer. She pirouetted gaily. "Do you like it, Floria?"

The maid replied wickedly, "If your party at supper includes a gentleman, his spoon will surely miss his mouth with the distraction of such a vision! How can these two years have done so much perfecting of the hoydenish girl who used to race me on horseback through the meadows?"

Valentina's hazel eyes became serious and she sat down across from her friend. "I wonder, too, Floria, how one can change so much so quickly. There are some days when I long for the quiet province where we lived so simply . . ." The girl's eyes went then to the pleasing reflection of herself and then to meet Floria's knowing eyesand the two burst out laughing, as of one mind.

"But it would be hard to leave these more grown-up diversions for our old games of tag-along, eh, dear friend?"

Valentina knew that her old friend knew her better than any other didbut she still could not confide about her rendezvous. Perhaps because she sensed Floria would not approve of Nicolo for her. "I see you grow healthy again. The old teasing Floria is back! Well, I must be away, else the dowager will be upon us, looking for me, discovering you, and making a great stew." She blew Floria a kiss, saying casually, "You will most likely be sleeping when I return. Take care that no one spies you here."

Floria swore dramatically, "I will leap from the window first, my dear!"

Valentina giggled. "It will not come to that, you gooseI hope! I suggest, however, that you aid in our small deception by staying beneath your covers if my dear aunt should come by for a moment. It is not her habit to do more than peek within the door to be sure I am sleeping quietly."

Floria's keen nose sniffed romance, but she kept her face and voice bland, knowing Valentina's secrets would be shared when it was time. "I will burrow myself so thoroughly as to appear a deeply unconscious moleand accept my thanks for this ruse which is, I recognize, being executed on my behalf." Valentina looked up sharply, but the maid's face was smooth and innocent. Her voice, too, was innocent in the question, "And where will you sleep tonight, Mistress, your bed being already taken by this vagabond?"

Valentina said quickly, busy at her pearls and not looking at her friend. "Oh, I thought I would not disturb your needed rest and privacy and will take Pia's old bed. It is in a location remote to my relatives' quarters and has no attraction for the ordinary snooping cars and eyes of the household."

Then why was I not put there, you little fox? But Floria was never one to pry. She could not, however, resist asking, "Oh, it is on the back garden, with its own terrace, is it not? Pia was most glowing in her telling of the sweet smells she nightly enjoys there." She had hit the mark; Valentina was meeting someone in the garden! It was there in the lovely face turned quickly away.

But Floria would not tease any longer; she was truly tired and just hoped Valentina would do nothing foolish like estranging the handsome D'Angelobut Floria had no intention of interfering with any pretty little romance. She yawned. "Do not worry about me, love, after all these luxuries you've seen to. And as for anyone catching me out . . .!" Floria winked at her friend. "Well, it will not be the first time I have passed for yourself, Valentina." With that, the maid buried herself beneath the bed covers so that only a few tousled tresses and a slight curve of shoulder and cheek were visible. For all the world, it did look like Valentina lying asleep, and that one broke into low chuckles.

"You convince me, dear Floria, as you will my aunt if she comes in. But please, dear girl, save your great masquerade till a more likely hour! The birds still sing in the trees at this moment, and Aunt would think me feverish to go to bed so early!"

Floria rolled over to grin at her. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I intend to drink the rest of the wine you brought until my brain and eyes stop focusing. This was merely a humble rehearsal of my talents at foolery."

Valentina, shaking her head and laughing, left. It was some time later, during the serving of strawberries and cream, that a young man on business with her uncle misdirected his serving spoon as Floria had predicted. Intent on the delicious way in which Valentina's pearls kept rolling into the cleft between her breasts, the young man's neat little beard was thoroughly white at dinner's end, to Valentina's almost uncontrollable amusement and the Fornaldos' disgust.

The young gentleman was given short shrift by Count Fornaldo, who wished no business with any person lacking proper manners, and Valentina was free to make her circuitous way to the tryst with Nicolo.

Feigning sleepiness though her heart beat so hard and loud she was certain her guardians would hear it, the girl took leave of the pair, who invited her to accompany them to the home of an acquaintance for a musical evening. "Oh, my dears, I beg your forgivenessbut I must stay and rest! the week's excitement has fatigued me greatly."

Valentina thought her chaperone would never leave, as she must give the girl countless instructions and warnings: ". . . and keep the servants in order and quiet; it seems to me there's been a great bit of milling and mussing about the kitchen lately."

But the Countess finally left, towing a spouse who looked behind him most longingly at the stairs to his own bedroom. His envy-tinged 'good-night' made Valentina giggle when she closed the door on the couple.

She lost no time going to Pia's room.

Pia's mirror reflected a new frown on the exquisite image reflected there: Should she add more lace at the bosom? Had Floria not commented on her provocative decolletage?

But her woman's sense told her she had never been more beautiful, and she eagerly opened Pia's terrace door to the moonlight-bathed garden path leading to the gazebo. A moment before she reached its shelter, a dark shadow separated from a large shrub to fall in step beside her.

"Oh . . . Lord Polo! You frightened me. I had thought to be early, but it is not easy in the Villa Fornaldo."

He, compelling in ruby velvet, appeared immense in this poor light. Valentina's hands trembled when he took them in his strong ones and smiled down at her. "I thought the hour would never come, and at last left my villa to steal inside these gates before the hour we set. Come, sit with me so that I may enjoy the glowing beauty which, for the past hour, I have dreamed of."

The compliment made Valentina a little shy as she was led to a nearby bench and seated closely to Nicolo. "You speak flattery, while I would have you speak more of the world and your wonderful journeys."

Nicolo laughed softly. "You speak of flattery! Beautiful Valentina, can you know how much it means to have one like you hanging on my every word? It tempts me to spend 1001 nights, like the fabled Scheherazade, leaving you each night to await the next in delicious anticipation!" His voice dropped caressingly. "But at this moment, with your eyes capturing the stars in them like jewels, I can think of only one story, and it has in it a creature more exotic than any to be found elsewhere in the world . . . Valentina." His hands took hers tightly and carried them to his lips. "Valentina, my captivating, beautiful Valentina! Will you dare to do what the wildest hearts must do? Can you bring yourself to let one who is twice your age lead you through a thousand experiences?'' Her trembling hands were covered with warm kisses. "Valentina, will you send me from Venice a broken-hearted man? Say 'no' to thatand 'yes' to going with me to Cathay as my greatest treasure!"

The girl felt as though the world she knew was whirling, slipping from her graspshe felt constrained to make a final attempt to hold on to the familiar. "Nicolo, you cannot mean . . . my friends in Venice . . . my family . . . ! Nicolo, you forget my strong ties to this place you would have me leave so lightly!"

The man took her slender wrists and tipped them over to kiss the soft palms, making their owner shiver. "I see no ropes on these lovely hands . . ." His hands moved expertly upward along slender arms, then downward, barely touching the soft breasts which were trembling among the lace, to the small waist. The dark hands spanned that circle gently. "No shackles at this waist, either, Valentina. I think you speak of bonds because you wish to spare my feelings from hurt that you have no desire to be pursued by one so much older."

As he expected, she hastened to convince him otherwise. "Oh, Nicolo, how can you say so? Have we met here this night to argue again who is old and who is notand what matter, if there is the spirit you spoke of today?"

Polo drew her close, murmuring, "You are so right, my darling; the only thing that matters is the bond between usthe mutual call to adventure to those who would be brave enough to seek it . . . Ah, Valentina!" His lips found hers and would draw the quickened breath from her.

Her passionate response made Nicolo's own breath come hard; his lips forced Valentina's yet wider apart, till the girl thought herself to be swooning in sensations she had not known to be fired by twining of tongue and lips.

When at last she drew away for gasping breath, she said weakly, "None has ever done such in Venicenor have I heard . . ."

Nicolo kissed her again, this time in a more restrained fashion. "Have I not told you there are many lands and many customs none among your Venetian salons have ever heard mention of?" Valentina could feel his lips curl in a smile as he teased at her lower lip with strong teeth. "But, of course, my tales for noble men must be tamer than those I would tell you, my sensuous darling . . ." He was stroking her nipple and causing sensations that were most unsettling . . . she covered her breast, rejecting the persistent fingers that went back to their play after removing her hand.

"Nicolo, you mustn't . . . !" But her breasts were now bare and being tantalized with a knowing tongue which lovingly circled hard nipples. The wonder in Nicolo's voice was sincere as he lifted his head to smile down into Valentina's eyes.

"Ah, Valentina, such breasts I have never seennot on even the most beautiful concubine in the Khan's harem, nor in any other! This heavenly form would bring clamour of princes and untold gold at auction . . ."

Some unknown instinct made Valentina pause in her indulgence in new ecstasies. She placed her hands on either side of her lover's head. "Nicolo, you frighten me with this talk of body-bartering and harems and the like! Would you have me think I can mean nothing unless I am priced like . . . like the slave they say goes with you to Cathay?"

Nicolo was grateful for the shadows which hid his alarm that he might have misstepped. He ignored the mention of Melisse, knowing beautiful women do not love divided attentions, and said in amused tolerance, My splendid lady, you mistake my words. These magnificent breasts, this glorious form, your beautiful face and hair . . ." he kissed each in turn "have no price! And know that if any man should try to buy you he would find the cost more than he could pay!"

Valentina relaxed, smiling up at Nicolo. "But who would dare offer gold for the wife of the famous Nicolo Polo?"

The man froze with his hand almost touching the gleaming shoulder. But Valentina did not notice the hesitation and Nicolo suavely went into the touchiest aspect of his courtship of Valentina. "Only a fool, with no regard for his neckwhich I would have served at our wedding feast at the Palace of the Great Khan!"

Valentina's eyes widened in astonishment. "Our wedding feast . . . to be held in Cathay? Nicolo . . . I'm afraid I don't understand! Have my ears deceived me, or did you not only an hour before now ask me to marry you?"

"Indeed I did, my lovely. But the rites must be delayed until after we have reached our journey's end."

"Nicolo, I do not understand this. You would have me come with you to Cathay as betrothed instead of wife? In God's name, explain this puzzle!"

"It is no puzzle, Valentinaand I would have made myself more clear before, had your sweet allure not chased logic from my senses! It would be considered unpardonable for me to choose a wife without the Great Khan's approval."

Valentina gasped. "The Khan! What has a foreign monarch to do with you and me, with our marriage?"

Nicolo hid his impatience. Why would no one in Venice understand the magnetic quality of his Emperor, the call to loyalty that extended to his subjects even when they were at a far corner of the earth? "Very much indeed. He is sensitive and feels my taking such an important step without prior sanction amounts to treason."

"Treason!" Valentina shook her head wonderingly. "How can I go, not knowing whether at the end I shall be pronounced unfit for the Great Khan's precious envoyor not?"

Nicolo chuckled. "This show of temper is not surprising, Valentina! But be assured the matter of the Khan's sanction is merely a formality. He will be as happy as I about my marriage to a beautiful, aristocratic virgin like yourself . . ." The girl kept her face still through a supreme effort. Nicolo thought her to be a virgin! Thinking on the matter, her surprise evaporated. There was no cause for anyone to think otherwise.

But the Khan! This mighty emperor who manipulated men and women like some omnipotent puppeteer . . . ! Her anger burned hot and she resolved there and then to go as the affianced bride of Nicoloshe wished to see this Great Kublai Khan with her own eyes. And she would not be humiliated by him either; Nicolo might be awed by this powerful tyrant, but she was not!

To Nicolo, she said demurely, "Then our coupling must be put off for many nights, love! Though I cannot help but wonder how you keep from asking yourself if this Khan can warm your bed or keep the howling desert winds from you!"

Nicolo laughed, delighted that Valentina seemed to be in accord with such unorthodox engagement conditions. "You truly are priceless, my darling! And you will warm my heart on caravaneven if you cannot, by convention, warm my bed!"

Valentina asked sweetly, knowing now that her loss of innocence must be kept from Nicolo as much as from this horrid yellow god at the end of their journey, "But this lovemakingdid you not intend it to sweep me over the threshold of Venetian morality?"

Her lover caught her to him again. "There are many paths to ecstasy, my love, if you but allow your senses their way. I had not planned to pilfer your sweet treasures, as your pureness at our wedding is a sacred trust which I will not violate!"

For fear that your beloved Khan would be offended that his aide would bring a non-virgin to his precious altar! But Valentina, now that her eyes were more open to the true state of things (she could never dream of the real purpose behind Nicolo's deviousness) had become curious again. She was eager to learn everything she could from this man who, except for his stubborn blind spot concerning the Khan, appealed to her most strongly.

After all, they were betrothed, weren't they? The garden became an arbour of passion, as Valentina was taught that which Nicolo had learned in soft-hued harems, in lush fragrant gardens, in wondrous love palaces stretching for miles beyond strait-laced Venetian chaperones . . .

In the planet somehow separated from earth that was the garden, she could touch the stars as they twinkled, bathe in the moon's magic coolness, discover new pleasures as Nicolo guided her to them.

As he could lead her soon to the exotic corners of the world, he would lead her now to new sensuality. He would not let the heavy folds of her dress, matching the midnight of the sky, hamper these teachings, but laid them back to make a soft shield against the night. Valentina's parted thighs welcomed the shimmering moonlight as well as the cool moistness of searching lips and tongue. When that new instrument made its way, seeking the spot wherefrom pounding joy sprung, Valentina thought she would die, and be transported weightlessly to the stars which hung above this heavenly passion.

"Nicolo, you must not touch there . . . ah, Nicolo, you have no mercy on one whose very limbs threaten to melt away" . . .

His lips relentlessly stayed at the place which seemed sure to send her shooting with a star which had just left its celestial anchor. Valentina gasped at the touch of a tongue where none had touched before now. "Your throbs of joy are threatening to rob me of my vows, my darling Valentina. I swear there has been no woman so open to the pleasures of love . . ."

"Nicolo, one moment . . . there but one moment more . . . ! Oh, I think I will faint. Nicolo, do not let me ebb away with these pleasures you bring me . . . "

"It was as though I was part of the heavens above, Nicolo. I could feel my body strumming and singing with music of the spheres!" Valentina pointed dreamily upward as she lay back against Nicolo's strong chest.

The man next to her was charmed by her utter lack of self-consciousness. "Believe me when I say, my beautiful Valentina, that to explore with me the most secret corners of the world is to learn of delights that explode the mind . . . "

A dimple appeared at either corner of her full mouth. "It was not my mind that exploded just now, Nicolo! How can it be that, even with my girlhood training I feel no shame? Are those of us who enjoy our bodies born lascivious and shameless? Share your wisdom and experience with my curiosity."

Nicolo tipped the inquisitive face toward his. "I only know that I have seen among men and women of the world that those who live the fullest, love themselves and their spiritual and physical bodies and will not turn away ecstasy if it is freely offered."

They watched the moon latticed by the vines over their heads. Valentina sighed. "The same moon will go with us, Nicolo! The thought is comforting, since I will leave so many familiar faces behind."

Nicolo's words held amusement. "Perhaps you will not be so lonely as you think, since it would appear our caravan burgeons with almost all of your closest associates!"

Valentina sat up, astonished. "What! Who else is going in addition to myself? Nicolo, I do not love the way you spring important news on me when it suits your whim!"

"D'Angelo himself will be among our passengers. He has visions of evading the disasters crowding him here and fattening his coffers in far-off trade." He chuckled. "I think, too, he has some notion of protecting his innocent ward, whose betrothal he has agreed to."

Some tiny relief moved deep inside Valentina, but the idea of being traded, as it were, to D'Angelo's advantage rankled. "Agreed? The monster gave me to you before I even knew of your suit?"

Nicolo put a finger to her sputtering lips. "I cannot give the man poor credit for thatbut I also must confess he was most specific that my heart's well-being lay at the feet of Valentina's will." He kissed her lightly. "The man has doubtlessly long ago decided he is guardian to one who wishes to point her own course."

Valentina smiled to herself at the thought of D'Angelo trying to watch over her and reinstate his fortune at the same time. The caravan would be a busy place for her noble guardian!

"You mentioned others?"

"Your guardian was most positive about the little chit who sings like a nightingale. No doubt he . . . ah, wishes her to go with him as musical companion."

Pia to go? Valentina gave a silvery laugh which did not ring true, even to her own ears. "Well, since we seem to be making a sweep of the household, why shouldn't we take Aunt Fornaldo? No marauding Arabs or devil sandstorms would dare annoy us if she were with us!"

Nicolo shuddered. "Your jest is in poor taste, love! The thought of that dear lady's tongue wagging nonstop between here and Cathay scares me more than any caravan danger!"

Valentina stretched reluctantly getting to her feet. "And, coming to mention my chaperoneI must hie me to bed before my dear relatives get wind of the untowardly late usage of their garden!"

And Nicolo was gone, as silently as he had come, but not before his lips were crushed to hers in farewell passion.

Valentina found her eyes would not stay closed, though Pia's bed was soft and the breeze from the garden refreshing over her as she lay unclothed in the shining moonlight.

Her body humming still from new awareness, she ran wondering hands over the parts of her that had been taught, and taught again, to feel so sweetly. Had these breasts so full and rounded truly arched so yearningly to the caressing lips that sought their tender tips? Had these soft thighs, with their sloping smoothness, opened wide the gates to . . .

Her eyes closed in sharp ecstasy when her hand hovered softly, then found the love temple. How could such tiny rise engender such delicious feelings? Movement brought something close to pain into her loins at the memory of Nicolo's lips at these secret places. How the darting, moist invader had fired her body, making her aware of longings and lusts she had never known!

At last her body was released from its tense rise to unbearable heights and, exhausted by hours of passion, she found herself succumbing to slumber.

One last sleepy thought drifted through her reposing mind: How, I wonder, has Nicolo such restraint? His manhood did rise, as I felt its stiffness through his garments, but not once did he beg indulgence for himself!

Floria would know, thought Valentina sleepily. Floria knows everything . . . about men.

Chapter Four

1
The Departure

Even if Nicolo had not been gone from Venice to seek letters from his friend the Archdeacon of Liege, it would have been difficult for Valentina to see him privately. She and Pia were kept in close quarters, as current happenings made the future of their guardian and their own state most uncertain. There were rumbles of D'Angelo's deepening financial crisis and rumours daily that the girls would soon be leaving Venice.

It was hard to keep the stirrings secret, but even Aunt Fornaldo went about with closed lips. That poor lady had been beset with so many startling happenings lately that she could not find one satisfactory subject on which to settle her discontent.

Floria's presence, though secondary to Valentina's announced betrothal to Nicolo, won out this time over the Contessa's upset with D'Angelo's misfortunes. It was the former maid, therefore, who was the focus for her grumbles this midmorning not a week after Valentina's announced engagement to Lord Polo. ''To betray an old woman so, Valentina! I still cannot forgive your bringing in behind my back a saucy servant who seems not at all embarrassed over being with child!"

"But, darling, she will not be here long, as Lord Polo has decreed she will accompany us on our journey!"

This only served to remind the lady that her beautiful charge was going off into God knew what sort of dangers and planning to marry a man who had lived so long among barbarians that he could not be Venetian, or anything near so civilized. "Valentina, it makes my head hurt, to think how you could have been married to countless heirs of my own friends. And what must my good friends think, to hear of this sudden betrothal to one who left his wife for nearly two decades and . . "

Valentina hugged her chaperone to stop the barrage of complaints. "Dear love, none can think anything that affects me, as my guardian's approaching bankruptcy will most effectively remove me from polite society! And do not moan over my fate; think instead how splendid my wedding shall be in this exotic land Nicolo tells me of!"

Floria, behind the old lady's back, rolled her eyes at Valentina, and the young Contessa ceased her talk. Poor Aunt Fornaldo could only be further depressed by being reminded that she and her spouse must stay behind and miss the marriage. The girl reached back to pull Floria to her side. "My lady, take comfort in the knowledge that my dearest ally and friend will be with me. Floria will be quick to bring ease to the roughest travel conditions! Pia and I shall learn from this one how better to take what comes to hand."

The Countess gave a scornful glance at Floria's thickening middle. "Humph! I only hope that is not all you learn!"

Floria looked after the departing dowager with regret. "Valentina, I fear you waste your breath defending me! Your aunt does not love me, and that's the end of it."

Valentina privately agreed, but said reassuringly, "Mark my words, she would be hovering over your midwifery like the fussiest hen if you were to stay."

Floria turned worried eyes to the other girl. "I cannot stay here, Valentina, as you know! There will come a time when the magistrates will hear of my being here instead of burned to ashes as they now think. Nobabe or no babe, I will go with you and these adventurers."

Valentina did not tell her that she had fought hard to convince D'Angelo of Floria's right to accompany them. How the noble had cursed at this added complication to a rapidly increasing number in their caravan!

"I'll not hear of it, girl. She must be left behind, her and her coming love-child. I will not have her along to whine over a belly made sicker by the sea and other hardships."

"But, Lord D'Angelo, Floria was my mother's most trusted maid! She was loyal to me as a child no larger than herself; and she went to Volcar's bed to save me from that fate!"

Silence, then new gruffness. "She deserted you, didn't she, at the end? Left you to make the best you could of a . . . confusing situation?"

"But she did not take advantage of me as she might have done!"

Again, silence; then, "She must agree to bondage . . . either to myself or Polo."

"She has told me she will do anything to escape harassment here." His voice had trace of humour. "From the magistratesor my formidable aunt? Bondage would be preferable over such a fate, I have to agree! Very well. I'll speak to the girl about the matter."

So Floria was officially a member of the entourage, with the understanding that she would more than likely be bonded to Nicolo and would answer to him.

D'Angelo's aunt was in such an increasing stew over the latest developments that he had the younger women removed from the Fornaldo villa to his own. He explained to them that the less his aunt knew of details concerning the leavetaking, the better, since he would be quite busy with matters involving need for secrecy.

Valentina got wind of the nature of these secret activities when she was called to the salon in the D'Angelo villa, not two hours after her arrival there.

"Father Laerto! I have not been told of your coming!" The girl winced, guiltily thinking how timely it was that she was leaving before another confession with the Father could be scheduled. The garden encounter with Nicolo would be better unaired to a prudish priest!

Father Laerto looked pained. "I have not been told of many things, daughter. Had I been advised earlier of the poor state in which your guardian's house stands, I might have interceded with our Lord of Hosts." Valentina's eyes followed his heavenward, then down to a faded spot where once a rich tapestry had hung. "If I am not mistaken, Mistress Valentina, the hanging once adorning that wall has this morning found its way to the villa of a rich, but less well born, member of my sector."

The young woman, shocked by this information that her guardian had quietly begun selling some treasures, turned to that blank space on the wall. "Oh, poor D'Angelo! The tapestry was a cherished heirloom!" She could see now, looking about the room, that numerous other valuables, many priceless in family sentimentality as well as value, were missing. Her sympathy for her guardian put steel into her words.

"Father, I am merely the ward of Lord D'Angelo, not his confidante. His privacy is safe with me, even so."

The priest rolled mournful eyes upward. "And why am I, his confessor, not his confidant? Here I am left outside, while the Polo brothers are close to him. Everyone in Venice knows they are not to be trusted!"

Valentina made a sympathetic cluck and the man went on in pious tones, "Who are these Polos, after all, to be his partners? Has not the Divine Will kept those two sitting idle in Rome, and now here, while their message from the Heathen gathered dust in a Pope-less town? Little daughter, it is these two who have brought your guardian to this desperate state . . " The priest swept his arms to encompass the depleted room in which they stood.

The girl could not leave this unfair indictment of her guardian and fiancé unchallenged. "Father Laerto, D'Angelo himself will tell you that his current status is through no one's doings, but instead caused by a distressing collection of misfortunes, which, coming together, are insurmountable!"

But the priest had lost his interest in D'Angelo's problems and their cause. "Weren't the urns that once adorned that mantel owned by three generations of D'Angelos?"

Valentina, hiding her exasperation that the pious fool would not come to the point, nodded. What was the price of holy silence, she wondered?

It was soon given to her in careful guise. "Dear daughter, I cannot stop worrying that these gold candelabra will be unsafe here, with all that has gone before. Will you not allow me to take them to the sanctuary of the church?" He peered over his bulbous nose at her and Valentina bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

She would extract a better price for the gift, though! "They would look glorious on your altar, Father . . . and who would dare steal them there, as you say?" The girl put hand to chin, weighing the question of whether or not to give them over to the priest. Though his fingers twitched avidly, Father Laerto brought his attention back to what she was asking him.

"Wha . . . the Kublai Khan's chop? Yes, all say that the golden slab of authority which the Polos carry is a magic opener of doors. Why, even the Turkoman, Efrim Paton, would give his treasured ship at mere sight of it! But he would also have gold." Again, the priest's eyes wandered to the gleaming candelabra, as if the mention of gold had made him think anew of the treasure he coveted.

Valentina absorbed her new knowledge, not regretting her use of the priest's avarice. So even now a ship is awaiting us somewhere close by! How my poor guardian must suffer, knowing he has no choice but to leave Venice quietly, taking any gold he can gather for future redemption of his holdingsor to pay this ship master. But she would sympathise with D'Angelo later; now she must pay the ransom for Father Laerto's discretion regarding her guardian's forced flight from his creditors.

She said most sweetly, "Father Laerto, I believe that my guardian would say as I do now: take the candlesticks and see that they light your church with the spirit of charity!"

Father Laerto had the two treasures concealed beneath his robe in an eye's twinkling. To Valentina he said most innocently, "No need, is there, to have people asking foolish questions? I will have trouble enough as it is quelling the rumours."

They both listened to sudden scraping sounds of more objects being removed from outside the room. Valentina smiled as if all this were perfectly ordinary. "It is wise of you to keep our secret, Father. The less said about a noble's misfortunes, the better. We both know rumours can only help those who would rush in to take advantage of this situation." She showed him out, feeling smug at having done her part in heading off more vultures who would otherwise run screaming to this villa for their undeserved share.

Would her new adventure, soon to start, hold more opportunities for sharpening her wits? She most fervently hoped so!

"Valentina, D'Angelo has said we must prepare for sudden leavetakingwhich is to be, perhaps, tonight!" Pia's pretty face was perplexed at the sight of the room so bare of its accustomed treasures, but she had grown used to surprises of late and made no comment.

"Tonight! Pia, did he say we leave tonight?" Valentina's excitement made her voice rise and Pia shushed her.

"The servants, Valentina! They'll hear! D'Angelo wants us to keep still. He . . . he says we will leave when it is dark, after the canals are empty and none can see our going. Oh, love, aren't you as frightened as I of this secrecy? And each time I mention how I hate the skulking, I remember D'Angelo's creditors, and how the shame haunts the dear man, and I want to cry!" Pia's eyes filled with tears and Valentina herself felt her throat close up air thought of leaving Venice behind so unceremoniously.

But she must be strong for both of them. "Pia, try to think the secrecy only adds to the adventure. And do not spend your time feeling sorry for my guardian, as new opportunities await him. Now we must begin our packing, as ordered, or we may be forced to leave with no case at all!"

"But, Valentinaonly one! I must leave so many of my beloved gowns behind, no doubt to rot before they are ever worn again!" Pia's wail lengthened at the thought of how little opportunity she had had to wear the pretty dresses bought her by D'Angelo, and Valentina's feminine nature, too, was distressed by this new restriction.

Valentina thought regretfully of the trousseau she must leave behind and of her mother's jewels. But the matter could not be helped.

"Well, if it is to be one case, one case it shall be! I, for one, shall be off this very moment to adapt to what must be the first of many deprivations we must get used to."

Pia, too, went sniffling off to choose among her treasures. En route to her room, the happy thought struck her that, as Floria was without wardrobe, she could pack that one's case with some of her own things which, of course, the other girl could wear occasionally.

Valentina discarded this gown and that, selecting finally the sturdiest creations that would not need mending before the first week was out. She hesitated over the casket of her mother's jewels, at last selecting a single strand of fine pearls, and the rest she packed carefully to entrust to Aunt Fornaldo's keeping.

She was finished; there was nothing now between her and her new life except a few notes to be written to old friends. D'Angelo had decreed no farewells were to be made, so she could make no visits. Then, finished with her writing task, she stared out over the somehow forlorn garden; after puzzling over its bereftness, she finally realized it was due to the fountains being cut off. The empty marble pools looked old and cracked and lifeless, and she found herself comparing the garden's changed state to what her life might have become, had she remained here in the formal social structure of this old city. The comparison was oddly cheering.

Floria, on the other hand, was undergoing trepidation at the prospect of undertaking the long and tedious journey. The small lump in her belly seemed dull and heavy, and constant sickness the last few days had made her usually bright eyes lifeless.

But D'Angelo must not remark her sickness; she fought back nausea in the rocking gondola that had been brought to fetch them. Valentina, understanding the maid's situation, held fast to her arm, seeing to it that she was given the middle seat.

It was an unremarked leavetaking, as D'Angelo wished it. Only the D'Angelo house gondolas were employed, as the baggage was light. Canal law was defied by dousing of lanterns, and all were silent as the gondolas glided swiftly through the dim path formed by post lights and half moon.

D'Angelo's silence was due more to anxiety than furtiveness; he was aware of the hazards ahead in this first leg of their journey. The harbour of Venice was like no other in that its city had been founded over a marsh. Low islands bracketed the only deep channel and these gave necessity for long wharfs reaching in a criss-cross from the great embankment directly fronting the city. Ingenuity had conquered disaster and made advantage of it: only the most knowing and skillful could weave the channel of the treacherous harbour. Venice was thereby granted natural defense, which had saved her from several attempted invasions. Her chief wharf lay off a low ridge to the north, but a brave or foolhardy captain, one who wished to come and go with secrecy, could chance the harbour to the south. Great risk came here, for a strong wind could drive him aground. The mud flats had held fast many a ship until the harbour-master came with his barges to unload enough cargo to set the looted vessel afloat and allow for tow. Naturally, the cargo was never reloaded, so the loss to a ship's captain was great, this loss being added to a fine for impeding other Venetian trade.

It was in this risky place that the Turkish ship had anchored with the Polos and their entourage already on board, they having returned secretly from Acre, with their apologetic letters to the Khan in hand. At sight of the vessel, a wind sprang up and D'Angelo cursed softly, urging his oarsmen, "Hurry, my good fellows! We will sit like a spitted frog if Paton's ship is not boarded and moved quickly!"

Pia was clasped nervously by Valentina, who could not help gasping aloud, "Mother of God! We are to climb that great height and be dangled above the deep like hooked fish? With nothing but that flimsy rope to keep us from watery doom?"

D'Angelo heard this dramatic protest and whispered to his ward, his face haggard with battered pride at so surreptitiously leaving his home port, "Would you rather be set back ashore to deal with the creditors who will descend upon the house of D'Angelo come morning? I, myself, much prefer my chance with the sharks!"

Valentina, suffering for his humiliation and feeling Floria tremble next to her, did not complain further.

In truth, it was an ordeal for them all. Paton had sheltered near but not next to the flats. Grunting sailors swarmed up the rope ladder to lash the gondolas close for boarding. Valentina thought herself caught in a nightmare: there was nothing of her glamorous dreams of boarding like a treasured princess! Twice her foot slipped on the greasy rungs and she was forced to cling without pride to the sour-smelling seamen who assisted her. Waves slapped against the vessel in rising tempo, swaying the sides and causing Valentina to lose her balance till she feared that this endless gripping of slippery rope with burning hands would go on forever. She dared not look back to see how Floria fared, but once she heard a groan that seemed to come from her friend's very soul.

Her own torture seemed mild, compared to the pregnant maid's, and she found herself soon on deck, exhilarated at her achievement. She took deep draughts of the pungent air from the sea waters and her spirits soared as the gondolas were cut free, leaving her no longer bound to any city. What a great adventure this would be! Her every sense tingled as the seamen scurried to get them underway, using the great wind to good advantage now.

The sails filled and they were swooped away from the glimmer of Venice, soon enmeshed in velvet darkness. Paton would not have lights till they were safely away. Though Valentina would have stayed on deck all night, listening to the strange language of the sailors and admiring the twinkling stars overhead, the women were quickly ushered to quarters far from the working areas.

Pia clasped her hands excitedly at sight of their cabin. "Oh, see, Valentina, how these charming curtains hide our beds! How tiny it all is, as if measured for dwarfs!"

Even Floria's wan face showed a smile at Pia's giggling discovery of their sanitation arrangements tucked away in the snuggest of cubbyholes. Valentina, alarmed at Floria's paleness, rushed to get her settled, with Pia's help. It was not long after that all three were fast asleep, like healthy young animals forgetting the horrors of the previous hour or the dangers ahead.

D'Angelo, too, felt the wrench of his labors, and would have put off his conference with the Polos, had he not been convinced this would be construed as unmanliness. He found the salon where his new partners awaited him did not hold Paton, which lessened his tension, the ship master not being high in his trust. The Turkoman was a dog who wagged his tail to no master, D'Angelo sensed, and would no doubt prove as scurrilous as his dark looks.

The three men looked at each other. Nicolo smiled grimly as if he divined D'Angelo's thoughts. ''The sea will restore us all before the journey's ended. Do not think of your aches and pains, D'Angelo, but more of those your creditors will have when they raid the empty villa you left in Venice!"

D'Angelo winced painfully at the dig. "Your comforting leaves much to be desired, Nicolo! The D'Angelos have never left an honest debt unpaid, and I do not enjoy this new sensation. I look forward to the time when I can repay the merchants I owe; make no mistake of that! But that is behind us; let us speak of these current arrangements before Paton comes in on us. The man makes me uneasy."

Nicolo was not concerned over D'Angelo's opinion of their captain. He dealt regularly with scoundrels, within the bounds of their limited trustworthiness. "As he should, unless the casket I saw you carry aboard (I saw that you trusted it to no one, smart fellow!) is filled with the gold you got from your transactions. The ship's owner demands half his pay beforehand."

Maffeo saw the hesitancy on D'Angelo's face and said sensibly, "He deserves his coin, D'Angelo! Rascal or not, not many would take the risks with his own ship that Paton did this night."

D'Angelo nodded. "He will be paid. Now, tell me your price. I wish to know before we go further so that I might be prepared."

Nicolo grinned. "Why add misery to your already considerable sorrow? I'm sure you're aware that your swift marketing of the D'Angelo valuables no doubt lost you half their value." At D'Angelo's steady gaze, he shrugged. "Very well. We have discussed the most important price: Valentina, who sleeps safely below. But the rest must be told when Laissus is reached. And there Paton again proves his worth, as he holds some relationship with several of the corrupted officials who keep your fleet in bond."

Nicolo unkindly overlooked D'Angelo's flinch of embarrassment at this reminder of his misfortunes with his franchise. "Tell me truly, noble; how can a man of your strength and resourcefulness hire such weaklings for ship captains as can be ousted from their own vessels? Your fleet is held intact, I am told, mainly for want of spirited captains to fight free of the tariff charges!"

D'Angelo felt his anger rise at this unjust criticism, but he said easily, "You oversimplify the situation, Nicolo, though it is true my fleets have often been captained by men who fight more ably at sea than in harbor. But may I remind you that years ago our franchises were won in blood, not by treaties as now. We are bound by these treaties, made privately with port masters, to keep a balanced tradethough Genoan trash stabs Venice at every opportunity, and this problem is more to be blamed than my captains! Even now, it is the Genoan House of Vestigo D'Lago who stands guard over my factor in Laissus. Not only was my fleet pilfered while in harbour, its optioned replacement cargo was diverted to the D'Lago franchise." D'Angelo's face darkened at the thought of the roguery that had nearly ruined him. "To add to my losses, I stripped my holdings last quarter to send gold for cargo from unsanctioned caravanessiyet who has seen sign of either my gold or my cargo?" D'Angelo was sensitive; the silence from the Polos could be construed as either pity or contempt, and the Venetian wished neithernot from men who had made no better decisions than himself, but had been more free of society's restrictions. His sarcasm was heavy: "Rather than looking backwards at my unfortunate reverses, why do you not take the Khan's great chop and wave it in the face of the ruffians who hold my fleet, or wave it like a magician's wand to produce new cargo?"

Nicolo chuckled with sincere amusement. "Your idea would be fitting to the intellect of such thieves and pirates, but not necessary. Dear noble, even now your terrible enemy, D'Lago, lies in state, stone dead."

"Dead!" D'Angelo forgot his ships in his horror at this news. "Dead, you say?"

"Do not look so hard at me, D'Angelo! Remember, Maffeo and I spent better than two years in Rome, where we cultivated friendships that reached further than the Church. We are filled with knowledge of the rottenness in some layers of Holy officialdom . . . but never mind that. Your Genoan archrival ate of some spoiled dish at the Cardinal Rialto's entertainment. Think of the disorder now in the franchise office at Laissus! You should easily be able to claim your cargoes from the D'Lago warehouses."

D'Angelo's mind raced even while his blood recoiled at Nicolo's callous manner. Even if D'Lago's death might be timely, was he, D'Angelo, expected to dance a jig on the man's grave? "Damn you, man, you move too fast! I am near ruin, but I have not lost principles with all else! Would you have me outcast from all legitimate trade offices?" He shook his head in disbelief; the man Polo was unbelievable. He asked in increasing outrage, "Would you have me present myself at this dead man's warehouses and announce myself as owner of the cargoes within though none can be sure they are mine, and if they did, certainly would not admit it?"

Nicolo looked casually at his hands. "I would not suggest that plan, as there is no need for you to be involved. The factor D'Lago employed will be open to bribery, he being without master and open to new profits, and Paton has said his brother has a gang of his . . . er, own persuasive ilk that can have the job done without undue complexities."

D'Angelo gave a choked laugh, hardly able to believe he discussed thievery so casually with anyone, much less a man who spoke closely with the hierarchy of Rome! "I begin to follow: these cutthroats of Paton's will steal unprotected cargoes on my behalf, and I will be rich again. And, of course, not one among my friends and colleagues will think I had D'Lago murdered!"

Nicolo smote his forehead and swore, "God's blood, Maffeo! The man thinks we had D'Lago poisoned!" He turned to D'Angelo impatiently, "D'Angelo, cease your caterwauling! Who will know of this raid? Believe me, none will accuse you of D'Lago's murder! My brother and I have seen to it that rumours are spread that the Khan's chop is responsible for your improvement in lot . . ."

D'Angelo bounded to his feet, nearly overturning the table between them. "Damn you, Nicolo! I begin to think you meddle too much in my affairs! I do not need you to spread gossip to conceal my rightful attempt to regain my ships! I can fight my own battles without you and your hired ruffians!"

Nicolo gave the other man a half-admiring, half-measuring glance, and then said candidly, "By Heaven, I believe you would go singlehanded into those warehouses! Forgive me, D'Angelo, for underestimating your courage; I have grown too used to men grown fat and lazy! My own father fought against Genoa and Florencia, and I as a lad went against Pisa; no doubt you, too, have had your mettle tested and been up against a sword or two!"

D'Angelo's feelings were soothed somewhat, and he admitted, "It is I who need forgiveness for flaring up at one who has done nothing but try to aid my interests, Nicolo! Though I cannot condone your acceptance of thievery as repayment of thievery, perhaps I balk too much. Perhaps you are right and any bad blood with Genoa over restitution of my rights should be on their heads and not mine! But I must ask, for my own peace of mind: was it by your machinations that my enemy is suddenly no more?"

Maffeo answered for Nicolo. "You do us no justice by asking such a question, Lord D'Angelo! Think about it a moment: why has no Pope yet been elected? Because of the squabbling between the great Cardinals, who would politick and forget the interests of Rome for their own enrichment! Nicolo and I did not feed D'Lago poison, nor did any other who is too busy for the bickering that goes on in the Holy City! It was the scalawag Duke of Palerno who struck your enemy down. He knows with no Pope to call him there will be no recrimination." His voice turned soft and persuasive. D'Angelo had already become familiar with Nicolo's method of charging the frontal attack, then leaving his gentler brother to smoothe and soothe, but he listened carefully, knowing Maffeo often brought up the rear with strong logic. "Leave behind the niceness of Venetian nobility, D'Angelo, and learn to take that which is yours!"

D'Angelo smiled a grim smile, thinking of Valentina and his determination to have her back at the end of their journey. Would Nicolo understand that, in the end? He thought not. But he knew many Venetian-bred ethics must bend in these climates. "If what you say is true, I must agree, if only to prevent this Duke from more looting!"

Nicolo, who had been watching the other's face carefully, rose to slap the noble's back in rare cameraderie. "I knew you were not the shrinking provincial that I found in so many Venice salons, D'Angelo! Let us uncork some wine and drink deeply to our successand to induce drowsiness enough to sleep soundly on the rough bunks made up for us!"

It was only after D'Angelo had drifted into near slumber that it occurred to him that Nicolo had circumvented his question about the price to be extracted by the Polos, as he would circumvent the need for roguery in retrieving his ships and cargoes!

Valentina was awakened at she knew not what hour of the night, by the constant jolting ride, and by another sound . . .

Floria was desperately ill, her normal queasiness horribly intensified by the rigours of the night. Pia was already at her side, soothing and cooing after each pitiful retch, but Floria's misery went on, till Pia wailed at Valentina, "Oh, can we not take her out for the air? It would at least ease her fevers, which rack her as steadily as the heaves!"

Valentina looked at her friend's drawn face anxiously. "Poor Floria! She suffers from this closeness as we all do, but Maffeo did most particularly warn us that we were not to leave this cabin . . . !"

Pia tugged at her friend's sleeve. "Oh, but you know what a fussmudgeon he is about us! You'd think us birds in crystal cages, to hear Maffeo . . . !"

Valentina said sternly, "Pia, he has explained the dangers: these Turkoman sailors are not like the Greeks who sail into our harbours usually. The Turks have . . . well, they have little regard for women."

"Then surely they will not notice our taking a brief turn on deck . . . ! Oh, Valentina, we can cloak ourselves; we shan't go about as if on parade!"

Valentina took Floria's shoulders gently, looking down into the streaked, miserable face. "You, at least, understand why we cannot wander about, don't you, poor darling?"

The maid managed a ghost of a smile. "If Maffeo was talking about our giving the Turkoman sailors ideas, they have only to catch a glimpse of me, love! My poor appearance would quench any fires, I have no doubt!"

Pia looked from one to the other, as always unsure about the special understanding between these two. "Floria, worry not about your looks! After the babe you will be as pretty as eversome even say it brings new life to skin and hair!"

Valentina gave the girl a warning look, stilling her chatter, then turned back to Floria, whose greenish tint and feverish eyes were alarming. If there could be got from the ship's kitchen even a draught of spirit-laced goatsmilk, it would surely help the suffering girl. Putting aside her sudden memory of the dark and fierce looks that had marked those who had helped them aboard, she said with resolve, "Pia, bring me that dark cape you brought in your box . . . I intend to get Floria help for her poor belly."

"Valentina, you will not! I . . . I grow better with . . . oh!" Pia helped the fainting girl lie down again.

"Oh, love, her pain is worse! What shall we . . . Valentina, if you will be so brave, at least put on more than that cape over your gown before you go out! What would the Contessa say to such attire?" Pia's shocked face made Valentina smile.

"She would say a great deal! But since she's safe in Venice and we have more pressing problems here, I don't give a fig what she or anyone else says!" But Valentina's bravado lessened when she closed the door behind her and faced the dark, cramped corridor leading to the topside ladder.

Actually she was more terrified of what Nicolo would say to her if he caught her disobeying orders than meeting one of the Turkoman sailors! But Floria's wellbeing was the most important thing now; they would risk all for her, had in fact already done soand Valentina could do no less, even if it meant facing a thousand Turks and Nicolos!

Valentina's hands gripped the greasy rails so tightly they must have left marks when she thought she heard a footfall behind her; she stopped, ears cocked and breath held.

Just a sail flapping, she told herself nervously.

There was no moon to light the last open space between her and the dark, empty galley that was her goal; in her haste she did not see the thick rope some sailor had carelessly left unsecured; her foot found it and she fell sharply to the unsteady deck.

Her hair blown over her face, she first saw the huge feet in rope-tied sandals before their strong odor assailed her nose. Valentina lifted up, slowly, terrified at the sight of such bulk and dreading the face at its apex. "Oh, no." She closed her eyes at the sight of the grinning evil that stood over her like a great shadow. "Oh, sir, have mercy on a poor girl whose only protector between here and safety is he who answers to my Lord Nicolo!" She waited, to see if the veiled threat had its effect, but the fellow only stood looking her up and down as if she were a fish floundering in a net. His grin made Valentina's heart sink, as she fully recognized how little her words meantand how much her body meant.

She looked about her frantically, prepared to sprint for the nearest door, wherever it was, but the sailor lifted her as easily as if she were a piece of flotsam on a wave; a great wind caught her cape and blew it away from her nearly naked body. The hood fell back, freeing her golden curls, and the man who held her ogled her as though she were a hallucination.

But the rough hands were making sure that she was real. Valentina bit back a cry at the exploring touches that returned time and again to soft breast and quivering thigh, as though still disbelieving this windfall to a female-starved sailor. His grunts were of a universal language, as were the moves toward his trouser strings. The girl had no doubt that she was doomed to know the ungentle lovemaking of a Turkoman sailor within minutes if she did not do something.

But . . . what? The man had only to heft her in his easy grip and dash her to the deck and she would be not only ravished, but broken. She braced herself for the inevitable, fighting panic when she saw the man reach the hand not restraining her into dirty trousers and extract a gigantic penis. She closed her eyes as she felt herself being pulled forward savagely, to be impaled upon that great pole. But then there was a gurgling sound, then a rattle as from the throat of an old dying servant Valentina had once tended. A thrashing movement hurled the girl to the deck. Stunned, she wondered dizzily if there were two sailorsit almost seemed as if the huge man who attacked her had divided his oversized proportions and part of him was even now slithering to the floor in horrible limpness.

Valentina, scarce believing she had escaped the menace that had threatened her, crept closer to the no longer quivering heap . . . and gasped.

Below the dark, still-grinning face, a large gash grinned in obscene concert with the lips. Blood gushed freely onto his chest and shoulders and Valentina found herself hysterically wondering what the morning crew would say to such a mess to clean before breakfast . . .

She held out a hand to her benefactor, not certain what had happened. "You . . . you saved me . . . ! How can I . . . Lord Nicolo will pay you handsomely for this . . ." Her hand was taken in a hard, slender grip and she was pulled up. Standing unsteadily on her feet, Valentina absently rubbed the place where the huge ring had scraped her fingers. "What is your name, sailor?"

But there was to be no answer; at the sound of approaching running feet and voices, the girl's rescuer melted anonymously into the ship's shadows, leaving only an impression of glowing eyes and a sense of malevolent familiarity which the woman could not explain.

It eluded her, this strange reaction to the mysterious sailor, and was soon lost in her stumbling explanations to a concerned D'Angelo, who belabored her for her foolishness. His fury spouted from very different emotions, but he could vent his anger with the girl. "If you had wanted goatsmilk, you should have knocked at the door of the seaman who was next to you, guarding the women's cabin!''

Valentina retorted warmly, the more irked that she had apparently risked her person for nothing. "And I suppose he would have rushed right off to prepare it on this floating Turkish delight?"

D'Angelo kept his temper, still shaking inside from the thought of what might easily have happened. "Valentina, I cannot believe that you would risk your neck for nothing more exotic than goatsmilk! Could it not be wine, or sweetmeats, that caught your midnight fancy?"

Valentina stared back angrily. But D'Angelo might raise further objection to Floria, so she said mildly, "I . . . thought to fetch Floria and Pia something homelike, as they had overwhelming thirst."

But D'Angelo was not forgiving, and had a large mug of the offending draught provided, handing it to his charge with such a great show that Valentina wished herself and the damnable goatsmilk at the bottom of the sea.

If only Nicolo did not hear of this! She ventured meekly, not wishing to add to D'Angelo's distress with her, "You . . . you will have no need to disturb Nicolo with this irritation?" She cringed at the mixed hurt and anger on her guardian's face.

But he managed to hide his pain and gave her a sarcastic bow. "Oh, but naturally we would not wish to wake his Lordship with the news that his intended bride caused the ship's strongest sailor to be slit from ear to ear . . . now would you?"

Valentina burst into tears, and stalked back to her quarters, her brain seething. The monster! One would think she'd lured the seaman to his death on purpose! At least Nicolo, though he would be peeved with her, would care that she'd escaped a savage attack!

But Valentina would have been disappointed to learn that her betrothed, though predictably irked, was more interested in the man who had apparently vanished after quietly killing Valentina's would-be rapist.

It was interesting, Nicolo thought, and most inconsistent. Most Turkish sailors were fiercely self-serving, as well as loyal to their kind. Who among them would be likely to kill the huge Turk, not wait for a reward, nor in any way reap the benefits of his deed?

Nicolo shrugged, and left off pondering the mystery, as it did not directly concern him, his mission, or the safety of the ship.

There was little need for further chastisement or confinement of the women, as Floria's condition took a serious turn which neither goatsmilk nor fresh air could prevent. Pia and Valentina, with Maffeo's gentle assistance, nursed their friend through a most dangerous miscarriage, which occurred not an hour after Valentina's adventure. Pia swore later that it was Valentina who would not, by strength of her own voice, allow the maid to slip from them into death, after her child.

"Floria, you must drink this, though it offend your poor stomach. There must be strength to these limbs, that they may march with us to Cathay! There must be blood to these veins, that they may pulse to the sun on snowcapped, faraway mountains! Live, Floria, live!"

"I cannot. I cannot. I am so tired, Valentina . . . so tired! And I know the babe has already gone . . . let me go, too."

"But yours is the main life, the important one, the source of other life, sweet friend. Drink, Floria. Drink! Live! Breathe! A breath from the deck has just wafted across usenjoy its miracle!" At last the agony ended. Even Floria knew it as she lay limp against the pillows and lifted a hand to cover Valentina's, who stroked her brow with damp cloth. "Valentina, dear friend. Is it ever to be soyou and I trading life for life? Are we two immortal souls, pulling each other, first one, then the other, through eternity?"

And now, after a week and two days of sea voyage, Floria stood, though weakly, with the others waiting the call of

"Land ahoy!"

Tempers were frayed with the long confinement, voices were harsh over landing orders, but all were pleased to put in to harbour. Pia and Valentina and even Floria were nearly beside themselves at the thought of touching land once more. Pia worried Maffeo till the man's even temper was sorely tested. "Surely here we can go about, as we are told the women here move through the city freely . . . ! Oh, the bazaars, Valentina, how shall we carry our purchases on board with us!" And Valentina was as excited as her young friend at the prospect of going from harbour to market, of smelling and seeing exotic wares, and hearing foreign sounds of a busy city.

But Nicolo had passed his decree down, and Maffeo gave it reluctantly. "My poor children, it saddens me to dampen such spirits, but it is not safe . . . not as safe even as aboard this ship among the Turks."

Valentina stamped a small foot, knowing her anger stemmed not from frustration at her activity being again curtailed, but rather from a growing resentment at Nicolo's turning so quickly from warm suitor to cold leader. Logic told her the man had too many responsibilities to cater to a young noblewoman's whimsbut this was going too far! "But of course you and my Lord Nicolo will go everywhere as you wishand Lord D'Angeloand even young Marco."

Maffeo's long face made her feel ashamed. "Dear Mistress Valentina, it is not to frivolities that my brother and I go, nor D'Angelo. Even as we speak, your guardian sees to his business at the tariff office, and my brother prepares our own mission to Acre and Jerusalem." His face brightened. "We have just received messages from a newly-appointed Pope!"

"A new Pope!" Valentina's pique was momentarily forgotten at this news.

"Yes . . . the messenger was waiting when we arrived in Laissus. It seems there is hope now of attaining parts of our commission for the Khan, at least! The new officialdom, though with much of the old arrogance, is not quite willing to let us go back to Cathay with not even the smallest sign of respect from our new Pope."

Floria, who had not yet come to private conclusions about the men to whom she was bound on this trip, listened carefully. She meant to ask Valentina more about this at the first opportunity.

But Valentina now was back to her original subject, to poor Maffeo's dismay. "Maffeo, these new plans give even more reason to relent on such a stupid embargo of our movements while in Laissus! With the new Pope elected and Genoans and Venetians for once at peace, there is nothing to keep us from being safe in and about this city, which falls under Rome's edicts."

The man explained patiently, wishing he had but a portion of Nicolo's authoritativeness or D'Angelo's abruptness with these women. "Valentina, to wave the banner of Christianity does not mean to embrace its manifestos. Hereabouts the Musselmen and dervishes hold more sway than the Christians . . ."

Pia broke in eagerly, "We would not offend these people, dear Maffeo! We would keep eyes down and faces shadowed that none might know we are of another faith."

Maffeo struck his forehead and rolled his eyes. "Mother of God, must I carve it out on these boards? 'Keep eyes down and faces shadowed', indeed! I know the three of you better even than I know my young nephew, and I know your prancing and giggling, that would alert even the sleepiest Arab princeling!"

Valentina was silent at this, knowing the man had not fully disclosed the reasons for caution. "Arab . . . princeling?"

"Yes. I had no wish to frighten you, but Laissus is the center of the most despicable trade of all lands: slave dealing. Let but one scion of Arabian riches glimpse one of those lovely visages . . . !" Maffeo's gaze lingered longer on Valentina, whom he knew to be prime among females in such bargainings, and repressed a shudder. "My pets, you would be seized before the night passed, with these Arab princelings screaming higher and higher bids at the auctions!"

The three girls stood silent, not yet able to conceive of such horrors as being sold into slavery. Maffeo, knowing he had caught their full attention, added softly, "Speak to Melisse of this matter. She will prove to you that old Maffeo does not cry alarm like a grizzled, toothless wolf in the night."

D'Angelo, surprisingly, was affably informative, when he came upon the ladies seated meek and silent awaiting removal from their cabin. "Oh, come, what have we here? Three pretty birds in their cage, not caring that the door has been opened?"

Valentina said with some remaining spirit, "And where shall we flyto another cager?"

D'Angelo laughed and sat down next to Pia. When he put his arm around the girl, she nestled next to him like a kitten, and Valentina's chin went even higher, so that Floria had to turn her own head to keep from smiling. "Poor Valentina, how that irrepressible curiosity of yours longs to be set free, to flit from danger to danger like a bee gathering life-nectar! Do not look so angry. What Maffeo told you was true, and we are in no danger only so long as none about Laissus lays eyes on threeno, four with Melisse!beauties like yourselves!"

Valentina valiantly tried her arguments on her guardian. "The Holy faith has been spread here as with other ports enjoying Christian trade, my Lord, so I cannot accept Maffeo's cynical dismissal of our influence here. Surely, such things as these . . . these 'dervishes' as he calls them, are only street jesters, no more! And surely the slaver-barbarians will soon be tamed by more civilized rule."

Pia turned interested eyes up to her protector's. "What is this 'dervish', sire? Valentina uses the name as if she knows, but I have never seen nor heard of such."

D'Angelo smiled coolly at Valentina. "My ward knows nothing, either, if she persists in calling them no better than 'street jesters'! The dervishes are not laughable, from the tales I have just heard Nicolo tell Marco."

Valentina smiled superciliously, though she had only heard of the creatures and knew nothing of their real character. "Pia, perhaps we shall glimpse one. They are only mystics who whirl about and bark like a dog while in a trance state."

Pia and Floria's giggles died away when D'Angelo said gravely, "Smile if you will, but I would not be part of a crowd watching the dervish. Those who did, once, in Nicolo's view, did not know, as Valentina does not, of the bloodlust to which some of these men are driven in their wild frenzy! They were caught in the whirling death of his sword and died for it, a dozen spectators or more!"

Valentina forgot her superiority and sat openmouthed with the others. "Was he muddled with wine, did Nicolo think?"

"No, he was not drunk. These people, after Muhammet's decree and example, do not drink spirits. Perhaps a bit of fermented goat's milk . . ." At the girls' concerted groan of distaste, D'Angelo grinned and went on, "Or they chew a mixture which dulls their senses and makes them fierce in battle. Nicolo was interested and tested the drug . . ."

Pia gasped but Valentina smiled to herself, pleased that her betrothed would take no man's word for it, but try the drug himself.

D'Angelo felt unreasonable anger at the way everything Nicolo did seemed god-like to Valentina, whereas only sarcasm or anger greeted his own achievements. Floria, knowing well the nature of the boiling chemistry between the two nobles, intercepted hastily, "Lord D'Angelo, we have gathered our small bags together and only await your word to leave this unhealthy hold." I hope forever! she added to herself with a shudder, remembering what jolting her poor abused body had undergone at the mercy of the waves. Though the girls protested, they were swathed in heavy robes which hid face and figure alike, and herded, grumbling, to a litter awaiting their disembarkment. Valentina, detecting movement and hearing most alluring noises of a busy city, managed a peephole, but cursed to find that the litter was covered as well. "God's breath! Am I to be carried around the world in a box? Of what use are these eyes and brain if they are constantly to be shielded from the people and places we encounter?" How the jostling life going on outside her carrier called to her lively senses!

Upon arrival at the cloistered apartments Nicolo had arranged for the women, they found a new surprise awaiting: their quarters were to be shared by the slave, Melisse, whom none had glimpsed till now. How Valentina's eyes widened at first sight of her whose legend had both fascinated and repelled her!

But D'Angelo's secret smile at this arrangement which he knew would be annoying to the Contessa Cortivanni prompted hauteur to replace curiosity. "The gentleman who holds your papers made these sharing plans, Miss?"

The slave, who lolled on the most comfortable couch, stared back at her who, but for red-gold hair and hazel eyes, was her twin in features. "He being my masterand yours, too, on caravanI do only as I am bade, Mistress. Are you slave or Lady?"

Pia's sniggers and D'Angelo's choked laughter did not deter Melisse from her curious questioning of this rival. "Do you rub pomade on your cheeks to make them so rosy.?" Valentina could not answer, and the slave went on amiably, "And how have you conquered the limpness to curls that the sea spray brought to my own?"

Finally the Venetian girl found her voice. "I am not slave to Lord Nicolo, like yourself, Miss! I am your master's affianced, and, as such, had looked for privacy . . ."

D'Angelo broke in airily, his eyes laughing into Valentina's furious ones, "It cannot be done, dear ward, as this was the only accommodation to be found in the whole of Laissus. And, speaking of masters . . . !" He left off his amusement and gave each of the four girls a stern look. "Since the Polos have today been called back to Acre and will be gone from here for some time, you will consider me in charge. None of you, not one, is to stir from these quarters, which have guards outside and all the comforts you require within." He left, and Valentina stuck out her tongue at the closing door, which promptly opened to reveal D'Angelo. "And that goes for you, Valentina, most especially! Though I cannot believe that any self-respecting slaver would take you with that awful face you're pulling!"

Valentina sputtered but, seeing how curiously Melisse watched her, assumed her role as lady of the manor, though the manor was nothing but a largish room with two curtained cubicles and the couch Melisse had laid claim to.

Floria and Pia, seeing that the other two beauties had in them the makings of a battle which none could win, whispered together and came up with the time-honoured truce of appealing food and drink. "Lady Valentina . . . Melisse (I know no title for you, lovely miss!) . . . come join us for this spiced drink and buttered cakes Pia and I have set out. The fare aboard the Turk ship left our stomachs empty and our taste for delicacies sadly unsatisfied."

Pia, one eye on the delicious pastries, added eagerly, "Yes, it is ever better to get to know one another over food and drink! Draw your chairs close, as I, for one, have no further desire to await your return to amiableness." With that Pia set to the little repast with zest, and it was not long before all four young women were eating and drinking together in pleasant companionableness.

Melisse, knowing her initial impression had been less than favourable on the young noblewoman who apparently held her master's heart, and perhaps his ear, was eager to amend her standing. She being one whom men constantly took for granted as one with no consequence, things often came to the slave's knowledge that none but she was privy to. Valentina's eager questioning of her, therefore, was met with information that was most interesting.

"You heard the plans between my Lord Nicolo and my guardian, then? Well, speak of it, girl. Were they in agreement that D'Angelo should rule here while Nicolo goes to Acre, and then the Close in Jerusalem? Is there truly a new Pope, as Maffeo told me?"

Pia crossed herself, having missed this news. "New Pope? Oh, glory be! Now cities will no longer be split asunder!"

Valentina added triumphantly, "And my Lord Nicolo can go into heathenland with a thousand monks and priests to bring the heathens word of Christianity! How splendid!"

Melisse shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. According to my master, it will depend largely upon the sway of this new Pope Gregory, as to who would go. The Christian envoys awaiting our leader at Jerusalem have no obligation to this mission, except by their own wishes. And the handsome man you call guardian . . ." (Valentina started at the reference to D'Angelo. Did other women find him attractive? She hadn't thought about it . . .) "Well, that gentleman had much to say about many things."

Floria stopped chewing, her eyes interested in what the slave had to say. "Our D'Angelo is a man of strong opinions. Did he and Lord Nicolo have another of their famous clashes?''

Melisse's eyes went darker than the clear blue they usually were. "It is odd, this thing between the two men. I have glimpsed the same underlying current between two noblemen bidding for the same slave at auction. But your lord spoke harshly to my master about the charge that he might forego loyalty during Nicolo's absence. How my master's lips curled when he spoke of treacheryand how your D'Angelo's eyes flashed in anger!"

Valentina asked hopefully, "They did not come to blows?"

Melisse laughed. "No. As usual, Maffeo stepped in as peacemaker. He soon cleared the air by giving his rumbling chuckles and teasing the two as to their schoolboy conduct. Nicolo got in one more thrust, telling the highborn what Paton would do if things did not happen as they should in Nicolo's absence." She bit into her cake with tiny white teeth. "He promised your guardian that Paton would as soon slit a Christian's throat as a chicken's."

Pia, her mouth full, sputtered, "How awful! Does your master often take side with lowborns like Paton against those of his own race and calling?"

Melisse shrugged again. "What of it? As my master has many times said: in matters of life and death, it is not the color or beliefs of a man that demand loyalty, but his mettle."

Valentina's loyalties were torn and a deep part of her thrilled to the knowledge that there seemed to be rivalry between the two men who meant so much to her. But Valentina could not let D'Angelo's reputation go undefended. "If that be so, then my guardian can not help but please Nicolo, as he lacks not for courage. He has many faults, but cowardice is not among them."

Melisse darted a glance at her fair lookalike, wondering at this new nuance in what she already regarded as a highly complex relationship. But slaves were not expected to ask questions or have opinions, and she said nothing.

Floria was not so bashful about speaking her thoughts. "This strife could be harmful to all of us. I trust our temperamental lords parted on affable terms?"

Melisse nodded. "Oh, yes. They bowed each other into dizziness, though Maffeo still shook his head and chortled at Nicolo's parting remark to your lord that he would see to it that words were said over his grave, if it came to that."

Valentina felt a sudden pang that Nicolo had so much to say and do with his cohorts, but never spared a moment for her. Could he not at least have said goodbye? Or peeped in here once to see how she fared? Her voice was martyred: "And here are we four, left to rattle one another's nerves for who knows how long in this cramped compartment!"

Pia soothed mildly, "It is not too awful, Valentina, and the food is delicious!" She ate another roll to prove her point and Valentina threw up her hands in disgust and flung herself on the bed in one of the curtained cubicles.

"Fah! You would be happy in a pit of vipers, my Pia, if there were sufficient sweets for your never-ending appetite! But as for me, I'll to sleep now, and wish that I would not awaken until we are gone from this devil's place!" 2
Valentina and the Slavers

Thus passed the next few days, the women sleeping and eating and talking, till even Pia began twitching from the confinement. "I would trade my finest bauble for one hour of strolling free in the market! Valentina, can you not convince D'Angelo that we are all going mad?"

Valentina glumly shook her head. "My guardian busies himself with his affairs, and I think has as little concern for our plight as we have patience."

Melisse and Floria, better trained in denial of personal wishes, only smiled at the other two. "If you only had more purpose like Melisse, who uses this respite to beautify her skin and hair, or if you welcomed the long rest of body and soul, like Floria . . .!"

But Valentina continued in her restless discontent, and finally announced, "Blast the eyes of any who would stop me, I am leaving this place!" She reached for veiling and robes, ignoring Floria's alarm and Melisse's wide stare. "Pia, you can go or stay; either way, it shall not be on my head." The younger girl followed her lead, pulling on robes and veils until she, like Valentina, was a shapeless mound. "Oh, Valentina, I thought you had lost all courage. But how shall we bypass D'Angelo's guard?" Both sets of eyes went to Melisse, who sighed and languidly got up from her couch.

"Oh, very well, I shall lure the creature from his dutythough I should hate to feel Nicolo's lash across my back, if he should hear of this."

Valentina said with more confidence than she felt, "He will not hear unless you tell him. Pia and I shall pass for old crones out to squeeze the melons, and vastly past slavers' requirements in age and beauty!" With this, Valentina stooped and groaned and croaked about the room till Floria's stomach hurt from laughter.

Even Melisse began to join in the humour, and agreed to the task of diverting the guard from his postan easy thing, since she was expert at charming men of all ages and, like other slaves bought for their beauty, totally practiced in the art of seduction.

Valentina and Pia soon found themselves strolling freely and unnoticed about the markets, stopping to breathe in the heady odors emitted from various stalls as though it were the breath of life. "Ah, Pia, is it not good to be out again! I swear I would risk a lifetime of slavery for the glory of being unconfined!" Then, realizing the contradiction of her own proclamation, she giggled happily and the two went about enjoying themselves thoroughly.

And, as it sometimes happens, the risk and danger of being secretly out were soon diminished in their minds, till suddenly their good fortune came to an abrupt end.

Pia heard it first. The girls had lifted their veils to better examine some exquisite tapestries that hung outside a small shop, and Pia was distracted by a most curious shuffling sound. The two girls looked up in time to see Arab slavers herding a group of shackled unfortunates before them around the corner not a block away.

Valentina's heart leapt at the glimpse of frightened, hopeless faces, many women and children, and she forgot her enthrallment with the objects she was admiring. Her whisper had the edge of desperation. "Pia! We must hide ourselves at once. Quick, your veil! And let us dart into this man's shophe will surely hide us till the monsters have passed."

The veils were dropped, but not before the one who had been following them quietly throughout their activities silently noted their uncovered visages and quickly vanished into a doorway next to their own chosen exit.

The low words exchanged with the shop owner were brief. The shop owner watched carefully as the dark hand with its heavy seal ring counted out the coin agreed upon, then pointed without looking up to a small opening between the adjoining shops. The other man peered through this, then nodded toward the door on the alley and asked harshly, "You are sure if they leave by the door on the rear of your friend's shop, they will lead the chase back to this door?"

The man nodded, still counting his money. "There are turns and twists which go nowhere but back here . . . it is not the first time the ruse has worked, my friend."

"Nor the last, I do not doubt." The light-eyed man smiled, grimly admiring the other's evil thirst for gain. "But have a care that no one knows of my visit here. The Turks with whom I sailed secretly think I trade for herbs and spices. If they knew I have coin, not one would rest till my throat was slit and my pockets emptied." Nor would you, my friend, which is why I shall see to your eternal silence once you have served to bring the beautiful Valentina to the slave market!

He slipped out as quietly as he had entered and very soon was in conference with the leader of the Arab slavers, who showed a large grin at what this strange man had to disclose.

"Remember, the fire-haired one is the one I would buy; the smaller one, do with as you will. But I hold you to your promise to convey to the slavers that the bid for that one is already in. She will be sold to me, no matter how the others clamour and shout! The private profit to the auctioneer will be sure and handsome."

"Have no fear, my friend; you will take to your bed the beautiful prize that very night! It is not a bad bargain for any, though I shudder to think how certain Arab princes will curse when the plum does not fall to themselves!"

The other's voice grated like cold steel. "Let them have the others. But the Venetian noblewoman is mineand I will kill for her if I must."

The deal was made and the Arab trader had three of his men burst through the shop which was Valentina's and Pia's refuge. As instructed, they allowed the girls to escape through the back door to the alley and waited only long enough to terrify the shaking shop owner before leisurely loping after their targets.

Pia cried as the women ran through the maze of alleyways, "Oh, Valentina, my heart would fair burst, and I cannot think we come any closer to freedom! Did we not already once pass that door?"

The other girl leaned against a wall for breath, looking behind them. "That cannot be, Pia . . . though I confess I know nothing of our whereabouts and how we may escape this horror! Perhaps we should try once more to seek the safety of a shop or dwelling." Just then, a group of women, the same terrors driving them, passed them, running and scattering in all directions, and Pia and Valentina ran with them, hoping to find protection.

But these were natives who, one by one, vanished into doorways and cubicles, till again none was left in the alley but the Venetian maidens. "Pia, I hear their pursuit, and I can run no further!" Valentina looked down with repulsion at how her slippers bogged in unspeakable filth and said tremulously, I think we are in private alley to dwellings . . . you have a smattering of the language; knock on a door and beg refuge from anyone you can. Promise them gold . . . jewels . . . anything we can give . . . if they will only see to our safe conduct back to our apartments!"

Pia swallowed hard, and pounded a tiny fist on a door, which at last opened and let her within. But just at that moment the slavers, yelling and howling, rounded the corner and saw Valentina, just as the door through which Pia had passed was closed tight.

The girl ran wildly, her heart pounding with such fear as to make her wonder if she would faint before her attackers caught her. But, miracle of miracles, there was an open door ahead, which appeared to be her last chance for escape.

She fell into the shop, crying to the man who stood there, "Please! Please, if you value anything, lock your door and save me from those monsters! Oh!" Valentina's hand flew up to her face as she saw the grinning Arabs with arms crossed barring the front door. The shop owner was nowhere to be seen.

She fainted just as her pursuers from the rear burst in to seize her unceremoniously and bundle her off like a limp bundle of old rags. Triumphant and satisfied over his accomplishments, D'Angelo meanwhile made his way back from the warehouses, where he had effectively completed a truce with the D'Lago factor, which would not only eliminate the need for force, but also hinted at further gain than he was actually entitled to. So much for Nicolo's case for meeting wrongdoing with wrongdoing!

Even the prospect of dismissing his own factor (found to be weak and not entirely honest) did not dim his pleasure at how matters had progressed. His ships were freed, and even now under way to Venice. Nicolo, on his return, might rant and rave at his methods and even cry treachery, but that would be dealt with when the time came. The man should have named his price when D'Angelo asked him for it! He had mistaken D'Angelo for a fool who would have no suspicion of why the Polos were so anxious to help in the release of D'Angelo's fleet! His deliberate vagueness had cost him D'Angelo's ships.

Thus D'Angelo, deep in thought, found himself free for the first time in days to visit the women's quarters. He was in no way prepared for the unhappy surprise awaiting him there.

Floria's face might have warned him, when she opened the door to his knock. "Well, Miss, where are my other two beauties? I have brought wine of the most sparkling vintage, and sweetmeats from the bazaar to glut even my little Pia. Why do you stare so glumly, woman? Are the minxes still sulking over my embargo? Melisse?" The noble, losing his frivolity quickly at the rising sense that all was not well here, fixed the slave with firm stare. "You will tell me, one or both of you, where Pia and Valentina hide themselves!" Floria sighed heavily. "We cannot conceal the truth, Melisse; D'Angelo will not beat usthough perhaps he shouldand we must tell him at once!"

Melisse still had inclination to avoid stripes on her lovely skin and flung herself at D'Angelo's feet. "Oh, Master, blame not us two poor underlings, but instead the willfulness of her whom you call ward! Floria and I had nothing to do with the sinful disobedience that possessed the others like mischievous demons!"

D'Angelo looked down at the limp beauty clutching at his boots, and, far from threatening, seemed only bewildered, so that Floria cried in pity, "My Lord, she speaks truth, in that no one could dissuade your ward and Pia from exploring this city . . ."

D'Angelo shook Melisse off, unthinking of anything but Floria's words. "Exploring! Valentina and Pia are out in the market with the slavers come only this day to Laissus? My God, woman, tell me all you know! Damn me for being so taken with my ships that I could not think of any other matters! My beautiful Valentina loose while all others sensible enough are locked away from the slave-dealers! I cannot bear the thought . . . where did they go? How were they clothed? Oh, don't talk of disguises; do you think there were not a dozen spies out looking for just such plums as these young beauties? No doubt the little fools were spotted and followed on their first foray into the market!" The man paced like a tiger in wounded agony, slamming his fist against table and wall, till Melisse vanished behind a curtain, thinking herself sure to be the next target. "The devil take me, how could I be so cold? To think I had no thought of them, but only for my own blasted interests! How I have betrayed their trust . . . ! Floria, we must go quickly . . . quickly do what we can to save them. My poor darling is in horrible danger! Valentina, my exquisite Valentina, in the hands of slavers! Melisse, I will not lash you, girl; come lend your aid in helping us through this. Think . . . think, both of you; where did the girls speak of going when last they went out? How long before now? We cannot wildly seek them, not openly, with the slavers still rampant through the town. Then you two would also be in jeopardy!"

Floria's eyes were wide. "But, sire, do the slavers simply run through the streets, abducting any and all who are abroad? Is this allowed in a city law which claims to be under Christian auspices?"

D'Angelo's head still rested in his hands. He groaned without looking up. "You persist in these naivetes, like your mistress. I did, also, until I heard from their own lips how many families hereabouts have lost children, mothers, relatives to these foragers on human flesh! Ah, the tales of atrocities you would not believe! And the city fathers, their palms filled with slaver's gold, turn blind eyes to the plight of simple citizens! Ah, Valentina!"

Floria sank to the floor beside D'Angelo, as distressed as he. "To think of our poor Valentinaand sweet little Piaat the mercy of these devils! We must do something, sire! We must leave and search them out!",

D'Angelo shook his head miserably. "It would be the ultimate in foolishness, Floria, though the need for action burns in me the same as yourself. But with no clues as to their whereabouts, we can only wait, and hopethough it is torture!"

Just then Pia, wild-eyed and hysterical, burst through the door and fell into first Floria's, then her protector's arms. When at last her babbling calmed into sensible speech, they learned of the plight of Valentina and where the abduction had taken place. At this knowledge, D'Angelo, full of merciless rage, forced a weeping, snivelling Pia to lead him to the shop where first the slavers had been spotted.

Young Pia was terrified of this new, grim D'Angelo, and piteously tried to justify how she had come to escape the slavers while Valentina had not. ''It was not by design, my Lord, that Valentina was denied the safety given me. Those poor people who took me in were only trying to close the dreadful slavers out, and themselves in. Oh, sire, how cruelly these people suffer from the slavers! If you could have heard the screams of mere children being torn from their mother's arms!"

D'Angelo's sick heart was not healed by Pia's wails. He spoke with supreme effort, "Yes, it is heinous, Pia. It is heinous, too, that till now I never gave much thought to the business of slave-dealing. But now . . . ! They have dared too much! Now, tell me about this shop, and the man who first let you escape . . ."

At the market where Pia and Valentina had spent happy hours before disaster came, Pia pointed with a shaking finger. "That one, on the leftit was there where first we evaded the savages. But my rescuers tell me we must already have been marked, as the shop next, that one there, is manned by a scurrilous traitor who takes gold for helping the Arabmen. It was there, thinking she had reached refuge, that Valentina must have been captured!" Pia began weeping again, but D'Angelo had no time for soothing.

"Pia, our tears must wait until we have done all we can to save Valentina! Now, our next business is to speak with the man who gave her to the slavers. These people often live behind their shops; we will offer gold and perhaps the fellow will be pleased at the prospect of gaining double over one deal!"

But as they pushed their way into the quiet, evil-smelling place, both knew all was not well. The feeling of abandonment was strong, and D'Angelo's heart sank at the thought he and Pia might be standing at the end of the trail to Valentina's whereabouts.

Pia, her eyes adjusted more quickly to the dark, pointed a trembling finger at something she knew, without going closer, was unspeakable. "Look! D'Angelo! Oh, I cannot bear it!" The girl put her hands over her eyes while D'Angelo went to turn over the huddled shape that had awaited their discovery. He nearly gagged at the sight of the slashed throat which had emptied its blood onto the camel skin cover that poorly concealed the crime.

D'Angelo carefully covered the sightless, staring face, murmuring so that Pia could not hear, "Your price was dear, scoundrel! Though I would have done worse had I found you alive and unwilling to tell me about Valentina." He stood up, exhaustion and defeat in every muscle and every limb. "Let us leave this hell-hole, Pia."

The way home was quiet, with only Pia's quiet snivelling as accompaniment to D'Angelo's gloom. The noble left the girl at her quarters and went to find Paton.

Melisse and Floria, crestfallen at being delivered only Pia, tried to give one another comfort that the morning would find Valentina safe back in the fold; but all knew betterespecially Melisse. The slave girl, with kindness rare for her, did not detail to the others the horrors which Valentina might even then be undergoing at the hands of her captors. Privately, Melisse had little hope for Valentina's survival of the ordeal; the girl knew well how ungently the slavers were wont to deal with their prey! D'Angelo meanwhile had found Paton. The Turkoman grinned broadly when the noble's purpose was revealed. "What, do you no longer consider my methods of dealing with lowlife so unsavory?" Secretly the shipmaster gained new respect for D'Angelo; the Venetian was, as he'd suspected from the first, a far cry from the pasty-faced foreigners that Paton despised!

"Do not consider my request for aid a reversal in philosophy, Paton! I resort to seeking help from you and your men only from a desperate desire to save my ward from a hideous fate."

Paton's dark face still grinned. "You will find your philosophy changes more each time you tread dark alleys, my friend! Like me, you will learn that 'cats who walk late and in the shadows stay fat and live long.'"

D'Angelo did not argue, though he knew his and the Turk's philosophy would never be the same; right now, his only concern was Valentina's safety, and he would search for her with whatever resources that were available. "I want you to offer bribes in every part of the undercity. Make sure that everyone Arabman or Turk, Venetian or Genoan, hears that Ghia D'Angelo will pay well for news about the Venetian woman!"

Paton nodded, not mentioning that slaves taken for the prime market, as Valentina undoubtedly had been, were seldom seen again. But the noble's face was deeply etched with worry, and the shipmaster saw no need to be more discouraging. "It will be done as you ask. But prepare to outrun the richest Arab princelings, who hunger for aristocratic beauties like your Countess and hate to lose such prizes!"

If he thought to frighten D'Angelo off the course being taken, he had vastly underestimated the Venetian. D'Angelo knew that he would not rest until Valentina was safely out of reach of men who bought human flesh like pigs at market.

Even while the word of D'Angelo's sizable ransom filtered through the dreggish parts of Laissus, the woman responsible was recalling her senses.

At first, her befogged brain could not credit what had befallen her, but all around was evidence that could not be denied, and low groans and moans and piteous weeping accentuated her fate. Valentina peered around her through the dimness, to see that she was in a long, dungeonlike room, with several other females who must have been captured like herself.

She fell back again. Who was to save her now? There was no exit except for a barred doorway, and this was opened only to usher in yet another unfortunate. The horrors ahead did not bear contemplation; in desperation, she resorted to mumbled prayers from her childhood.

"You are Christian?" The hand plucking at her sleeve penetrated her muddled senses, and she turned gladly to her questioner.

"I am Christian and Venetian." Through the gloom she made out the delicate features of a girl child of no more than twelve or thirteen summers. "Who are you?"

"I speak your language in part, Lady, as my mother is from Pisa, though my father is Greek and we live on the Isles." The small voice saddened as it corrected, "Nay, 'we' do not live; only I and one sister, who are both slaves. The raiders came into our village by dawn while most were asleep. It was terrible, Lady. I grow weak to remember."

Valentina clasped the trembling child. "Then stay quiet if the memories are too dreadful. We are Christian and not meant for slavesthey will let us go when this is discovered." The child's bitter laugh shocked Valentina. "Why do you think so? Many of our faith go to the market! If you cause trouble, they will only mistreat you. My sweet sister was pious as a saint. Well, her they beat until she was muddled in the headand even so, she was not spared from sale at Otro! The eunuchs who tend us have taunted me with similar fate if I do not act meekly."

Valentina felt sick from the hopeless tone of her new companion. "Well, my beloved will find me; I am convinced he searches even now!" In her mind she had a confused picture of a face blending D'Angelo's and Nicolo's features. She continued more confidently, "I will see that you also are rescued from here . . . what is your name, little maid?"

The girl smiled, an old smile, Valentina observed with a shudder. "Name, Lady? I am without one until I am offered on the block, and then my new master will tell me how I am called. I was not sold at Otro because they said I was fair enough for the prime market." The girl studied the other woman quietly. "You are very beautiful, and I think you also will be saved for this. All in this room are for the prime market, I believe."

Valentina felt cold in spite of the airless room. "How far is the market of which you speak? Will we be taken from Laissus?"

"No, beautiful lady, but we will not go to the open block as do the ones who will be sold for servants and laborers. We will be shown to the rich Arab kings and suchlike who wish to add to their harems."

"Dear Heavenly Father! This cannot be!"

But the girl went on relentlessly. "Or worse, Lady, to a brothelkeeper who will use us harder. Soon the eunuchs will come and dress us for the private viewings. I have already been shown twice, but they hope for a better price than has yet been offered. An old gentleman looked long at me and I hoped he would take me." The little maid sighed. "It would be easier with an old master, I think."

Valentina gritted her teeth to keep from crying aloud at this piteous hope. More than all else it was the final proof of the degradation awaiting her. She sank to the ground in silent horror over the forthcoming viewings of which the maid spoke.

Soon a group of beardless men came bearing torches. Each carried a basket containing various materials, perfumes and pots of cosmetic paints. With the light, Valentina could see clearly the delicate features of her young companion, as well as an assortment of other similarly favored females. Valentina's cry as she was pulled to her feet did not sway the eunuch's emotions; as casually as he might have swatted a fly, he slapped her across the face.

"Lady, remember what I said!" The maid hissedand, truth to tell, Valentina had no wish to be further battered. She had never been thus punished by anyone, and the indignity of it stung as much as the blow.

One after the other, the women were stripped naked and washed with scented cloths, even in their most sercret places. Then, after anointing each young body with oils, the eunuchs chattered and squealed among themselves over the choice of robings. Valentina blushed at closer views of these costumesthey were no more than veilings designed to tantalize rather than cover the body of the wearer.

Her young friend was dressed in flimsy white pantaloons with only a transparent scarf floating over her tiny breast buds. Valentina winced to see how one of the eunuchs stroked the sweet form as he rouged her tender nipples and rubbed oil into the dark wispy triangle between her legs. But there was no further sympathy for the girl, as now they turned to her! Her lesson learnt, Valentina made no move to protect herself; she merely closed her eyes and reminded herself fiercely that the hands taking such liberties with her clothing belonged to less than a man. A brief memory of lovemaking with . . . again D'Angelo and Nicolo blended as one in her mind, and she opened her eyes in confusion.

It was a mistake, this return to consciousness, for she could see that her now-naked body was the object of eunuchs' and slaves' admiration alike. How the contemptible half-men mewled and purred over the vision before themand how the other females stared and whispered! It was obvious to all in the room that here was beauty superior to any other and a rare find, indeed.

For the first time in her life, Valentina wished she had been born ugly. Being a servant, a drudgeeither was preferable to this humiliation! At that moment, she lost all hope, for she knew beyond doubt that the slave market was no respecter of persons, no matter what their standing, and there was no escape from them. Even D'Angeloor Nicolo, if he were in Laissuscould do nothing to save her!

But somehow she steeled herself to the lingering salving of her body and its orifices with sweet smelling oil and by supreme effort she remained statue-like as a white sheath of veiling was draped loosely from her breasts to her thighs, concealing little.

This ordeal finished, a cup of liquid resembling wine was passed to each woman. Valentina hesitated and once more her child-friend whispered advice: "Lady, it will be hard for you if you do not drink. This is a mild drug to make you feel the indignity less while those who come to buy take measure of us. Feel no shame in knowing that it will make things easier for you . . ." There was a tainted sweetness to the drink, but Valentina drank it down, glad of anything to dull her nightmare. As strange fires lit her loins and insides, she wondered, but could not know her young friend had not told her allthat the drink was an aphrodisiac meant to enhance the females allure and desirability.

Soon the women were ushered into a courtyard with the semblance of a pleasure hall, strewn with rugs placed around a wooden platform. The captives were led to a pit fitted beneath the dais, from which they could see through slatted boards that the courtyard was filling with buyers.

The girl-child lay her hand on Valentina's arm. "Lady, do as I do, and remember there is none here to help you or to remind you of behavior under ordinary circumstances. First there will be sent out the young boys which are most thought of by the ones who come to buy . . . then some of us will be shown. If you see a lord who looks rich and not too evil in the face, try to beguile him with sweet looks."

Valentina managed a trembling smile. "It is I who should be counseling you, child, yet it is you who are more learned in these hideous practices! I will heed your words, little wizard, as long as we are together. Share your wisdom now about a matter that puzzles me: can those seated across from us be boys? Never could those be male!"

"Yes. It is the way. They are love boys and dressed as females; they will play instruments and dance and otherwise amuse future masters, and are most valuable in this market, though some buyers share your disdain and come only for the female offerings." The child shrugged. "Myself, I am thought to be of worth mainly because I am unformed and younga prize to some of the older men who favour such as me."

By now the courtyard was crowded with customers. Those most richly clad and attended were given the rugs closest to the board where the slaves would be paraded one by one. Where interest was shown, various slaves would be brought down into the crowd of buyers for closer scrutiny.

The parade began. Young males barely formed to adolescence were brought out separately to a clamour of praise from the auction master. Some were greeted by applause if they were clean-limbed and handsome above average. Filled with a strange excitement (Valentina could not know it was the drug affecting her so), the noblewoman watched in reluctant fascination as one well-favoured captive was passed down among the prospective customers for intimate examination. She gasped so that her little companion pressed her arm in warning.

"But how can grown men do so?" Valentina cringed as a gaunt Arabman stopped the boy mid-saunter and bade him lean over. His fingers, dark against the boy's buttocks, pulled and pushed to show better the dusky hole that he sought. Valentina was horrified when he then inserted his longest finger between the buttocks, his face showing intense pleasure in the act.

"The poor lad!"

"He has been prepared; the oils and creams prevent pain. And he will be treated well if he pleases."

Apparently Valentina's little friend knew the business well. That boy was bought quickly, and his new owner seated him in great honour on his pallet, while an underling gave the youth fruit and wine.

Another was so bold in his showing that the buyers shunned him. As he pranced out among them, the youth parted with any modesty and made lewd gestures at the richest buyers. Though all those who favoured males enjoyed the practiced show of genitals and love movements which the boy made, he was not bought. Valentina was told, "he is too bold, too professional. None among these rich men enjoy such slickness!"

So many further vulgarisms were employed that Valentina began to feel she was in a topsy-turvy dream where the abnormal had become the norm. She was in such shock that when an intermission was called, she waited dazedly to be led to some newly bizarre situation.

But her confidante whispered that the sale was not over; the auction had been stopped momentarily because the bidding had not been satisfactory. They could see now that liquors and sweetmeats were being passed among the clients to whet lustful appetites. And as a final stimulant to sluggish passions, a troup of scantily-clad dancers were brought out.

Valentina watched with reluctant admiration as the lead dancer, a hard-eyed beauty, jangled her way among the noisy buyers. Her costume was not much more than those worn by the prospective slaves; the glittering bodice only framed the breasts which jiggled and trembled with the dance, and the ballooning, sheer trousers concealed no secrets.

The girl was a marvelous dancer, though it was soon seen this was not her purpose. She carefully chose only those men who were not bidding on the males and managed to tantalize each before the dance was finished. One she sidled up to in the dance, letting the nipple of one jiggling breast slip between his appreciative lips. When he would have sucked at it too long, she rolled her eyes at their audience, eliciting laughter, and danced out of reach. Another princeling, when he forgot himself and grabbed the tempting darkness between her legs, found his arm turned into prop for the performance: the sinuous motion seemed to please the girl as much as himself.

The other dancers, meanwhile, were having their effect on the mood of the buyers. Everywhere one could sense in the wake of the moving bodies a murmuring rise of the passions that the slavers hoped to inspire. Valentina watched with increasing wonder that none of the twisting, taunting beauties was seized and raped on the spot. But her companion shook her head.

''It would be tabooand fatalas these dancing girls belong to some potentate who has an interest in this enterprise! But there will be more satisfaction given the aroused buyersyou will see!"

It was then that a hush fell over the entire courtyard; all eyes turned toward the platform where a slim, muscled male dancer in daring costume stood. His manhood, huge in size and garishly painted to resemble a serpent, was exposed, as were his flat breasts, painted to look like demon's eyes. The arrogant head, masked except for the eyes and mouth, stared scornfully down at the lead dancer, who, moaning and falling to the ground, played the role of supplicant. As the man came gracefully down to her, she embraced his feet and kissed the tip of his whip, which trailed loosely at his side.

The young girl pressed next to Valentina whispered wonderingly, "I have never seen a play like this one! Oh, but see, Valentina, how it excites them?"

The other woman looked at the ring of lascivious faces which watched the unfolding entertainment with silent appreciation. Her heart started beating madly, and she acknowledged the unworthy excitement starting in her own loins. "He . . . he cannot mean to whip her . . ."

The girl gave her first real show of amusement. "Oh, I do not think that is how he will use her, Mistress! No harem master wishes lash marks on his chief talent!"

The girl was right; the pair started a dance that held everyone spellbound. Though the whip lashed and whistled and trailed everywhere near the darting litheness of its target, it never touched the tender flesh. And when the crescendo of handbells and suspense rose unbearably, there was a flying dancer's leap. Valentina almost forgot her plight in the beauty of that soaring movement.

But almost as though they knew they had captured their audience with their aesthetic beauty, the pair reminded their watchers they were not watching an ordinary dance. The girl, clinging to her partner's middle, where she had landed, with entwining legs, leaned backwards so that her hair dragged on the ground. Valentina gasped, for now she could see the man and woman were joined together, his maleness showing where it parted the split pantaloons and penetrated the girl. Silently, then, they danced and swooped, never parting.

The shuddering ecstasy of closing rapture was made part of the dance, and afterwards Valentina watched the couple bow and smile to thundering applause and clanging, still wondering if their lovemaking had been real or part of some ritualistic dream.

Whether real or hallucinatory, the scene had done its service. Everywhere the Arabmen showed their eagerness to continue the bidding; the aura of sensual anticipation and excitement built higher and higher as the auctioneer reappeared and the first captive was brought to the platform.

"Oh, what if they do not sell me this time? I will have the same fate as those boys across from us. See how glum their faces look at their rejection? They know that a worse fate than being sold awaits them." Valentina was the comforter now. She scarcely glanced at the rejected captives as the girl had bidden her, but said bravely, "I begin to understand the comparative evils of a slave's fate, little one! And though I hate this destiny for you as much as for myself, I know any who buys you will be kind to your sweet nature."

The girl hugged her new friend and then pointed excitedly through the slats. "Oh, Lady, see there on a well-placed rug? It is the white-haired man who wanted me at the last auction! Oh, pray with me that this time he will bid high and I will be free of my nightmare of Otro!"

Valentina, dutifully peering out, could not match her companion's fervent hope that the old man would indeed purchase her, but she murmured supportively, "He seems to have a kind face . . ."

There was no more time. Valentina was given a last hug and barely heard her friend's last whisper to her: "There once was a girl named Elena, Lady. She exists no more now, from this moment on. But think of her . . . pray for her . . . and never forget her!"

Valentina called after her little friend, who was being led away from her forever, "I will never forget you . . . Elena!" She hurried back to her peephole; she could see from the buyers that many revealed great interest in the young nubile offering.

The old man who she hoped would buy Elena made a slight sign, and Valentina saw the child sent to him. She wanted to weep when she watched the tiny form arrange itself most alluringly for her admirer and saw the open desire on the elderly customer's face.

But it was the child's own choice of the lesser evil, and Valentina was glad when she saw the bidding ended and her little friend taken away by her new master. There was no time for tears. Valentina's time had come.

She strained to see where this came from, but tears of humiliation were dimming her sight. She blinked them back as the bidding grew more frantic, hoping that it would soon end and she, like the young slave before her, might be released to some lesser hell.

Hot, lustful eyes examined every inch of Valentina's near-nakedness, made even more desirable by the blushes that did not stop at her cheeks, but suffused her entire body with a rosy glow of shame. There was no need for the auctioneer to stimulate the prospective buyers further. Higher and higher climbed the bids, and despite her misery and rage Valentina noticed that each bid was always topped by a tall, commanding figure swathed in voluminous robes that concealed all but the man's burning eyes. Each time his voice rang out, an involuntary shudder ran through Valentina's body. Had she not heard that voice before? But where? And when? Finally the voice called out, "One thousand pieces of gold!" The assembly of buyers hushed, awed by the immensity of the amount. Valentina closed her eyes, faint with a nameless terror. She was to be this man's slave, then, subservient to his every whim, the instrument of his pleasure. The eyes that burned so fiercely into her own assured her that this half-remembered stranger would not be gentle with his prize.

"Sold! And cheap at twice the price!" shouted the auctioneer, as the robed figure strode to the platform where Valentina, trembling, waited helplessly. Almost contemptuously, he tossed a pouch heavy with golden coins into the slavemaster's outstretched palm. She could see through her veiling the dark hand with its gleaming seal ring.

"She has been sold!" D'Angelo's face showed the strain of the past few hours, when his search had seemed hopeless and Valentina lost to him forever. "Where is this informant, Paton? I would ask him myself about this Arab who outbid the others!"

The shipmaster shook his head. "The man wishes to remain unknown, he being among my crew and thus vulnerable to others' greed. Suffice it to say he knows well what has happened to the lady and has given us warning that there is but one chance to rescue her from the rich master who owns her."

D'Angelo said in quiet fury, "Watch your tongue, Paton! No one owns Valentina; neither her body nor souleven if he had paid all the wealth of the Orient." He calmed himself visibly; this would not get Valentina back! "But what is this one chance?"

"We must abduct her from the minions as they pass through the narrow passage from the auction square to the Arab's well-guarded quarters. The prince himself will not be with themwe have found this outas he has further business with the slave dealer. But we must make haste, Noble! Even now the girl may be on her way to the Arab's bed!" Paton left as he spoke to gather his men, so he did not see the anguished look on D'Angelo's face.

Valentina, plodding barefoot through twisting alleys, had never been so miserable. There was no escape from the surrounding henchmen of the Arab's, and she could only hope that what lay in store for her would not be much worse than what she had already endured.

Her ears caught a sound from behind them; her captors heard it, too, and froze to listen. There was much jabbering, and Valentina was shoved from the encircling group, all but one of whom stayed behind to melt into the shadows and wait any pursuers. Valentina was hurried on her way with the one remaining guard and it was not long until they were out of view.

Neither she nor her captor expected the attack when it came. A blanket descended over Valentina's head, stifling her scream, at the same time that there was a sound of a sharp blow and a loud grunt. The girl was then carried in a jolting run through pebbled streets and alleyways, till she thought she must surely be shaken to pieces.

At last she was carried through a door and dumped unceremoniously on a rug, where she lay for a moment to catch her breath for whatever new terror might await her.

But the blanket was suffocating her; and she fought to free herself from its tangles.

"D'Angelo! Oh, thank God, thank God!" And, forgetting the looseness of her cloak on her still-naked body, she flung herself at her guardian. The man closed his eyes and murmured into her soft tresses. Valentina was not sure of the words, but she knew the delicious warmth of being safe and home again.

She would have stayed in his arms forever, but D'Angelo was pushing her away tenderly. "I wish you never had to leave my arms, Valentina, but the Sheik who paid heavy gold for you is already no doubt filled with rage over your kidnapping. He will be in hot pursuit very soon."

"Oh, D'Angelo, if you only knew how sorry I am for this! Was it you, then, who grabbed me with that dreadful blanket and almost killed me on the trip back here?"

D'Angelo smiled, his face still haggard, but no longer haunted with dread. "Do you think I would have entrusted you to the ruffians Paton sent to aid me?"

"It was you we heard behind us?"

D'Angelo's eyes crinkled. "Ho, that was a piece of luck! We had thought to have the whole crew to fight for you and instead we saw the fools leaving you with only one guard. But we can talk of this later! Even now the Arab will be using his riches and power to retrieve you." He looked at Valentina with a hint of teasing. "You can, at least, take pride in the showing you made, dear ward! An Arab prince! You could have done worse!"

Valentina laughed and cried simultaneously, "It is a dubious honour, D'Angelo! Oh, and what of Pia? I knew she was not captured, but is she safe?"

D'Angelo nodded. "Thank God she was not in the hands of the slavers! I should have killed any who laid a hand on that one!" He could not know how his words cut Valentina. "But she is safe, with the others waiting for our quick transport from this deadly city. I have sent word to Nicolo of the change in plans . . ."

Valentina's eyes went wide. "Nicolo! Oh, what will he think of me since I have behaved so wrongly?"

D'Angelo's voice was dry. "His anger with me will dissipate any toward you. I have sent my ships and cargoes homeward, and I suspect our Lord Nicolo will be less pleased with my actions than with yours!" He thrust some clothing at the girl. "Here; I hate to hide such beauty from the world again, but we must think of our escape."

Valentina said softly as she struggled into her garments, "I am very glad you retrieved your rightful goods, D'Angelo and I feel sure Nicolo will join in your relief."

D'Angelo knew better but did not feel he owed Valentina such early awareness of Nicolo's deviousness. "If he does not, at least those honest merchants in Venice will be happy at my good furtune! I have two joys at the momentone, your being safe again, and the second, knowing that my debts in Venice will be honorably paid. I will be able to return home someday in better odor than I left it, thank God!"

There was a noise outside the door. D'Angelo pushed Valentina behind a curtain. "Wait! There are sounds of those to whom I owe payment for this work. Keep your face hidden; these ruffians could be tempted to recapture the prize for double the profit!"

Valentina watched in tense silence as D'Angelo threw gold coins to the motley crew who had saved her from the Arab. After they left and D'Angelo had checked outside to be sure none waited in ambush, the two rushed along toward the eastward rim of the city, to the stations whence departed caravans. Even in her fearful and exhausted state, Valentina could not help looking curiously at this place where camels and drivers milled about, amid the turmoil of trading.

D'Angelo pulled her on in haste when a mustached Turk motioned them to a two-wheeled cart, harnessed to a pair of asses. Valentina stiffened at the strong odor, then protested as D'Angelo would have handed her into the canvassed interior. "Am I to be hauled with this stinking night soil?"

D'Angelo nodded grimly. "It will discourage scrutiny, Valentina. And Pia and your other cohorts await inside, suffering more greatly than you yourself. Damn it, get inside, woman! Would you trade all our lives for a sweet smell?"

Valentina hesitated only a second. "D'Angelo, I beg your forgiveness, as I will theirs, for my foolishness. And will Nicolo ever forget it is I who have caused his dream of a triumphant sea voyage into the Khan's harbour to be abandoned?"

D'Angelo's eyes kindled in anger. He had risked all to spirit the minx away from cutthroats, had endangered the entire entourageand all she could think of was how Nicolo would react!

With much effort, he held his fury at bay. "Don't take full credit to yourself for sinking that fantasy, Valentina. I doubt such a journey could ever have taken us safely to heathen shores, even if ships had been available. Come nowbe off!"

And as Valentina forgot her discomforts and tribulations in the jubilant welcome from her friends, D'Angelo was left to contemplate how this forced travel by land might be a blessing in disguise.

Chapter Five

Caravan

Far from where D'Angelo and the others sought safety in Laissus, Nicolo stormed in a rare fury. He had just received a message informing him of D'Angelo's dispatch of the freed ships to Venice.

"That sly noble! He must have suspected from the beginning that I had secret plans for his fleet! But D'Angelo is not by nature suspicious, Maffeo. How could he know his ships would be part of my bargain?"

Maffeo, as always, tried to calm his brother down. "Don't underestimate the man's instincts, brother. D'Angelo is no fool, nor does he place your prosperity higher in importance than his own!" He hid a smile at the thought that Nicolo's slyness, for once, had been matched by the Venetian's. "Be honest: would you yourself lounge about in Laissus, waiting for your vessels to be taken and used and perhaps never returned?" Nicolo struck his fist against his hand, wishing D'Angelo's head had received the blow. ''But God's teeth, Maffeo! Was it not I who schooled the man entirely in how to free his ships and cargoes? Has he no sense of obligation?"

Maffeo pointed out gently, "No mention was made of ships in the bargain you struck with D'Angelo, brother. When he would have pinned you to a price, you recall, you would not come out with naming his fleet as part of the trade. The Lady Valentina's betrothal to yourself was the only actual stipulation in your agreement!" He put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Come now, Nicoloforget this passion over a deed you would have done yourself under like circumstances, given the opportunity! Let us celebrate, instead of D'Angelo's cleverness, the Pope's generous grant of priests to our purpose."

Nicolo, who had in truth been moved to reluctant admiration of the Venetian's unexpected cleverness, rolled his eyes comically. As was his nature, his mind moved forward, away from the disappointment in the scuttling of all hopes for the dreamed-of sea voyage, to the point where Maffeo prodded him. "The two fat little priests! Maffeo, can't you just see them shrivelling on caravan fare?" The two men laughed heartily at the image of their plump new passengers' reaction when they encountered deprivations which the Polos and other seasoned travellers took for granted. "But no doubt these friars' pious backgrounds have prepared them for growling stomachs and sand fleas."

Their laughter died completely when Marco rushed in with a new message about Valentina's near-misfortune. Instead of being angry with the headstrong girl, though, Nicolo was struck again with D'Angelo's competence in rescuing the group from Laissus. "The man continues to amaze me with his maneuverings, Maffeo! But, Marco, you say D'Angelo speaks of our joining him and the others at Ayas?" Marco nodded and his father frowned. "This plan worries me greatly; before this news of our little group's outrunning an enraged Arab I had other news . . ." Marco, who had long since ceased wondering about the extraordinary communication resources available to his father, waited. "News that could make Ayas even more dangerous than Laissus as a rendezvous point." He turned to Maffeo. "The Sultan of Bundakdar in Babylon, I am told, leads a rebellion against the city. I do not relish a confrontation with his forces, my brother! Let's combine our thoughts for an alternative plan."

Maffeo's long face looked longer. "And those we must join up with in some fashion are so unused to caravan ways that every mile means new danger. And now you say this notoriously cruel sultan is rampaging near where our band travels!"

The two brothers exchanged long, unsmiling glances. It was one thing to laugh about the fat, pampered priests enduring caravan hardships and quite another when it came to the beautiful Valentina and a valuable slave being in constant danger!

The shock of caravan practices and personal hardships had already come quickly to the entourage of whom the brothers spoke. Melisse was the only one really prepared for such drastic changes in comfort; the other ladies had many adjustments to make. How Pia and Valentina complained of the dust and insects! And Floria grumbled over her primitive cooking duties, since there was no meat. She joked grimly to Valentina, "But I suppose that's a good thing, since there is no pot left uncracked for stewing!" Pia, swallowing gamely her own and Valentina's share of the grain mush Floria had concocted, said kindly, "This is not really too awful, dear Floria; not unlike that which our guardian Aunt Fornaldo was used to make when we were in bed with colds or such, isn't it, Valentina?"

The lump in Valentina's throat at the mention of her faraway relative was not due to Floria's porridge. "It . . . it is somewhat similar, Pia, though Aunt Fornaldo always drenched hers in butter and grape conserve, you remember." She looked apologetically at Floria. "It's fine; truly it is, Floria! I'm . . . I'm just not hungry right now!" But she was hungrystarving for civilized meals and beds free from crawling things, and people who spoke her own language. This last was the greatest hunger, for what little civilization there was on caravan was barred from her and her friends by their ignorance of language and custom.

People travelling with them were not especially unkind. It was simply that they offered little support to inexperienced travellers like the group from Venice.

D'Angelo firmly retrieved Valentina's half-empty dish from Pia's lap and handed it back to Valentina. "Eatand that's an order! The water used to soften the grain is too valuable to allow finicky appetities, Valentina."

Valentina ate in gulping bites, hoping she could finish and flee before the tears gathering in her eyes could dampen the mush further. It wasn't fair for him to treat her like a child in front of the others!

She worked off her spite against her guardian by throwing herself anew into getting whatever enjoyment she could from this part of her adventure. As the days passed and the roughness of their travel seemed less harsh, she found herself happier and more carefree than she'd been since leaving Venice. Pia and Melisse were having the same reaction since they, too, were spared unusual notice just as Valentina was. Swathed in unlovely robes, their faces caked with mud to ward off nagging insects, the threesome found their beauty was so well hidden that free movement was perfectly safe. Since D'Angelo's wagon was not prestigious, the groups anonymity was further extended, and they were often circled with lesser traders and herdsmen when they stopped at night.

This pleased Floria, who held prestige lower than the ability to trade with their night companions for fresh foods and unbroken pots. The maid, though as mudcaked as the younger girls, felt too old in experience to cavort with the others. Still, she enjoyed the feeling of cameraderie in the caravan that came from all being dependent on one another for safety and freedom from inner and outer strife.

A more lighthearted and forgiving Valentina finally approached D'Angelo where he sat stargazing one evening after all but these two had found blankets. "It is beautiful after all, is it not, my lord?"

D'Angelo's smile cracked his own mud-cakings as he looked into the face turned wistfully upwards to the stars. "More beautiful than ourselves, Valentina. It is good that you brought no mirror, as your visage would send your conceit plunging!"

Valentina's hand flew to her cheek, but her quick anger melted into chuckles. "Can't you see the dear Countess Fornaldo now, fainting consecutively at sight of myself, you and Pia?" She added shyly, "I would have given anything for these ugly disguises when I was in the Sheik's possession. He . . . he would have used me barbarously, D'Angelo; I saw it in his eyes. My debt to you, though sometimes forgotten in petty anger, will remain unforgotten for all time."

D'Angelo's eyes glittered in the mud mask. "Will it? I think not, my dear ward." He chuckled. "Don't look so alarmed! Though I am tempted by Nicolo's absence and your own closeness, I don't choose now to be repaid for my part in cheating the Arab princeling of his beautiful prize." He went on casually, "Unlike the pair on yon camel blanket, I have no wish to share your exquisite charms with any eyes but mine!"

The girl blushed when her own gaze followed his to the couple he made reference to. The pair had lost all patience with fleshly needs and were bounding up and down on their blanket with moaning intensity. Valentina would have looked away in embarrassment but D'Angelo came closer and held her warm face straight ahead. "No, my love, do not turn away! You mistake my jealousy for criticism. I envy those two who care only for the stars and their own passion, which blazes like a fire ball across the heavens."

Valentina watched as she was compelled to do, not only from D'Angelo's firm grip, but from her own fascination. D'Angelo whispered, "See how, with final, deep thrust she is his . . . how she sighs and whispers of her own pleasure?" Valentina could not move, though D'Angelo's hand was no longer on her face.

"D'Angelo, we must notnot here, with Pia and Floria as likely to see us as we have seen these others . . . !"

D'Angelo gave a heavy sigh. "You will remind me constantly of my responsibilities, will you not? But you cannot escape my passion completely . . ." Valentina was free but for her hands which D'Angelo held tight, but his voice held her rooted. "Pretend, Valentina; close your lovely eyes and pretend that you are she whose breasts are caressed with mud-caked lips . . .". Valentina's blush told her guardian that her thoughts obeyed his voice. "And dream with me that it is you and Inot the pair yet entwined over therewhose hearts and blood still race with the joy of love's exquisite peak. . . ." His voice dropped so low that she could barely make out the words, "And is it difficult to imagine it is you and I, my darling, who are as loath to part from each other's arms as those two are?"

Indeed the man and woman held each other so tightly that Valentina could feel the final wrench as though it had been undergone by herself. She said softly, unaware she spoke aloud, "There can be no shamefulness in two such lovers who come together willingly, and separate so painfully!"

D'Angelo dropped Valentina's hands abruptly. Another moment in this moonlight with this bewtiching creature and he'd defy a thousand Polos for her! But to do so, with so many witnesses in this strange land, would endanger them both. He said coolly, as if the passionate interlude just past had not happened, "As we must separate now, my dear. Sleep will surely not be difficult after such a tiring day!"

One moment the impassioned loverthe next, her patronizing guardian! Valentina's cheeks stung that she had again allowed herself to be lulled into thinking D'Angelo felt passion for her. She nodded stiffly, then strode silently to her blanket, where Pia lay slumbering restlessly.

Valentina herself could not sleep, though the tiredness D'Angelo spoke of racked her body, along with aches from the day's travel. She was awake, therefore, to hear the soft rustle of Pia leaving their bedrobes, Disbelieving, she sat up and watched the younger girl furtively make her way around the wagon to the place where D'Angelo had positioned his blanket. The whisper carried clearly in Pia's sweet young voice: "Dear sire, my sleep was troubled by new fears of what lies before us. Will you hold me close in your arms as before?"

Valentina lay back down, her cover pulled tight around her ears to keep out further intimate disclosures.

She vowed she would not confront Pia on the subject. No, her pride had been badly wounded enough!

At last Valentina slept, more exhausted by her mental labours than the long day's travel.

The next day the girl would have ignored D'Angelo and Pia totally, had there not been an unpleasant occurrence which turned her thoughts away from the previous night's mixed pain and pleasure.

D'Angelo dropped back on the trail to try to prevent the females from a sight that was common on caravan, but no less hideous. "I command youValentina, Pia: do not step closer to the circle of men who pause ahead of us!"

Valentina tossed her head. "Would you protect us . . . or merely keep us from learning things for ourselves? Come, Floria; let Pia hide if she must, but you and I will not miss any adventure that goes with this journey."

D'Angelo, his face with its mud-masking looking sterner than ever, warned, "Go, then, if your stubbornness will not let you listen to common sense, Valentina. But I warrant it will not be an 'adventure' worth witnessing! A thief who robbed another of his valuable carpets must be punished in the manner of these people . . ."

It was too late. Valentina watched in paralyzed horror as a huge sword caught the morning sun, swishing down to lop off the miscreant's hand. Floria swayed in sudden memory of her husband's bloody death, and clasped Valentina in her arms. She was glad her more sensitive friend had closed her eyes in time to prevent the sight of spurting blood from an armstump and the twitching, dismembered hand in the dust. "There, my darlingdon't cry! It's caravan justice, without which the richer caravans would never be safe from the poorer, nor the poorer from passing thieves."

Valentina couldn't stop weeping. Her voice came muffled against Floria's comforting bosom. "But to be so cruel! Can we not, at least, give the poor fellow treatment for this maiming?"

D'Angelo came up in time to hear this last. "It would only brand us as friends to the thief, Valentina, and make us even less trustworthy than we already are. The man will be gone from the caravan within the hourbanished, as all thieves are. Banish him and his punishment from your mind as well."

But the horrible incident haunted Valentina all day and into the night. She found herself wondering, as she lay stargazing from her blanket, how this could be called justice. In one place, slavers could steal women and children and go rich and unharmed themselvesin another, a robber was brutally maimed for a lesser crime!

And though Valentina eventually overcame the horror of what she'd seen, the matter formed yet another callus on her tender feelings which would help her in later adventures to accept more easily the cruel inequities of the world outside Venice.

The days following were gayer, with Pia and Valentina finding their new freedom exhilarating. Still unlovely in rough robes and clay-smeared flesh, they could tease the goat-herds and wander about the lands they passed through in lighthearted happiness. Floria and Melisse had no interest in girlish cavorting and D'Angelo, tall and stately in more elegant clothes, maintained his station as leader. Often Pia would catch Valentina's eyes on her in quizzical thought when the younger girl rushed up with handfuls of flowers.

"Valentina! Pia! Come close; we near Radus!" Floria bustled about the wagon, gathering the items which would be attended to in the village.

She had learned that experineced travellers used these stops to see to mending of broken pots or straps for baggage rolls and for trading for food. There was never time to be wasted, though D'Angelo shared with her his newfound knowledge about this place. "Do not rush so much, Floria, as the town of Radus has many regular caravanessi to stop. Many of the ancient trails are overcrossed here, and we will probably stay longer than in other places."

Valentina rushed up to hear what D'Angelo had to say about the new town and, with Pia, watched with wide eyes as all the traders and newly arrived merchants mixed and mingled. There was such profusion of movement and chatter that the girls found themselves moving from one crowd of people to the next. D'Angelo watched for a moment with indulgent smiles, then called to Pia, "Come, Pia; you are the only one who speaks the language with any skill. I would bargain for bedding free of the vicious fleas that have been having their fill of us nightly!" He saw on Valentina's face the familiar curiosity about any new adventure and warned sternly, "As for you, Lady, I charge you to stay put for once. No wandering about; I expect to find you here when we return!"

Valentina gave such a solem promise that D'Angelo fought back a smile at the spectacle of her clay-covered sincerity. He left Floria with an admonition to tie Valentina to the wagon if she made signs of setting off. "And, Floriadon't let anyone try to buy Melisse; I've noticed several traders looking over here with interest . . ." He winked at Floria as Melisse scooted back behind the wagon.

Valentina was a bit miffed that her only responsibility was that of staying close to the wagon. But she was still sheepish over the trouble shed caused in Laissus and made no attempt to defy D'Angelo's command. Her curiosity found another target, however, in the dark man who kept circling their wagon and casting interested looks her way. "Who is that fellow, there by the rug merchant, Floria? Can he be drawn by our remarkable beauty?" With that, Valentina screwed up her smeared face and stuck out her tongue.

"Valentina!" Floria tried not to laugh at her friend's comical visage. "The man could be a scoundrel and we are alone here! I vow, if you do not get into trouble one way, you do it another. Seenow he is approaching us!"

"No doubt to ask what he might trade for these beautiful faces," Valentina retorted under her breath.

Floria frowned as formidably as she could at the man whose smile widened as he drew closer. "You, there! Be off, about your business! We have no wares nor extra food for any but ourselves." Floria saw that the man's eyes made free with her slim figure and protectively shoved Valentina and Melisse behind her, "Like the mother hen shooing her chicks to cover!" whispered Valentina to the slave girl. ''Well? Will you stand there grinning all day or shall we have our master sent for?"

"Master? You and I share the same one, if you are the bondswoman Floria." The man did not move while Floria assessed the confidence in the smooth voice. "And he, Lord Nicolo, has sent me here to see that you are all safe and well and on your way. I am called Pierto."

Valentina spoke up sharply, not liking the fellow's insolent grins and sly stares at Floria. "Our Lord Nicolo sent you to check on a nobleman's leadership?" Her scorn made the man's dark face flush even darker. "I will be interested to hear how you put this commission to Lord D'Angelo."

Pierto's oily smile returned. "No more interested than I will be to learn from my master why he dispatched me to protect three such ugly and sharp-tongued mudhens . . ." Melisse gasped in wounded vanity at the insult, and Floria's hand flew up as though to strike Pierto, but the man caught her arm midair. "Now, little colleagueyou should not be so quick to join sides against one who shares your bondmaster."

Floria's hand dropped and she glanced hopelessly at Valentina. It would not do for her to incur Nicolo's wrath; she could not be sure that his henchman would not have her ousted from the caravan with some false story about insolence. "My only haste is to discover more proof of what you say. Lord D'Angelo has charge here and even now is up ahead bargaining for our increased comforts."

Pierto's grin took a malicious twist. "Ah, I saw him speaking with a Sheik in a fashion which I will describe later. First, though, let me assure you three ladies that I am indeed Lord Nicolo Polo's man and that I have been appointed as your guard and your green caravan master's aid."

Floria, forgetting her place, gave a derisive laugh, which trailed off at the menace in Pierto's face. But his voice was soft. "Watch your tongue, woman, since you have been placed in an inferior position to me." His tongue lingered over the word 'inferior' and his sly eyes travelled insolently over Floria's full breasts and narrow form.

The maid's face reddened beneath the clay. She knew Pierto's meaning, but must make a last feeble protest. "How do I know these orders come from our lord and master and not from your own whim?"

Valentina frowned at the evident distress her friend was undergoing. "Would Nicolo do such a thing, Melisse?" she whispered to the slave girl.

Melisse nodded, secretly glad that her person was meant for the Khan and she, therefore, was inviolable by men like Pierto. "I fear he has sacrificed your friend's womanhood to his henchman's convenience, my lady!"

Valentina was horrified at Nicolo's apparent casual disposal of Floria's body to a man whom she had never laid eyes upon. "It's abominable! I will not allow . . ."

Melisse laid a quieting hand on the other girl's shoulder. "Sh-h, mistress! You will cause trouble for your friend. If Lord Nicolo did, in fact, bequeath his bondswoman to Pierto, Floria must allow herself to be used by him or suffer worse consequences. And if the man speaks for himself only, he will manage to give his master some false story later."

Even Valentina had to admit there seemed no other choice for Floria but to bed with Nicolo's emissary. She thought of the lustful mercenary who had raged with passion for women above him in station, though, and said in desperation, "Floria, I think it will be better if we wait for my Lord D'Angelo's return before you . . . before this gentleman's charge from Nicolo is discussed."

Pierto's mocking bow held little respect. The hateful smile turned toward her made Valentina shudder. "Ah, but then you might have a long wait, dear lady. Your lord is even now in danger from the Sheik with whom I saw him speaking on my way here."

Six eyes turned to him in unison. Valentina said weakly, "In danger? Our master went merely to trade for foodstuffs and the like. How could such a homely mission result in danger from a Sheik?"

Pierto chuckled. Valentina thought she had never met as repulsive a fellow; how could her betrothed bear such slyness? "Didn't I say your master was green in the ways of caravan? Wasn't I sent to prevent foolish mistakes on your leader's part?"

Floria said coldly, "Then if what you report is true and our lord is indeed in danger, you have already failed in your mission! Tell us why he is threatened and then those of us who are loyal will go to his aid."

"Do you fancy that three such beauties could make a king swoon at the sight of you?" Melisse didn't even bristle, having grown used to Pierto's digs. "But I fear it is too late for intervention. The noble was already facing a sword held by an angry Sheik."

Valentina wanted to shake the man for keeping them in such suspense. "Sword? Why would he draw a weapon on D'Angelo?"

"Because your noble master cast admiring looks on the king's handsome young sonthe worst insult possible, since the Sheik abominates boylovers, especially those who look too sweetly at his heir." Valentina felt cold fear. Up to now she had doubted this oily man's hints, but she was well aware that Venetian men of D'Angelo's fine breeding often looked on well-formed youths as admirable works of nature's art. But the Sheik would have interpreted such admiration very differently!

She ran to Floria. "Comethere's no time to waste! We must go to him quickly! Perhaps the Sheik will have mercy on threeno four, since Pia is with himhelpless females who have none but D'Angelo to look after them."

Pierto darted Valentina a sharp glance. "You will have myself, my lady, as I have already told you."

But Floria and Valentina had already gathered up rough skirts and scurried off in the direction of Radus, their desperate speed halted by sight of the very person to whose aid they were hurrying.

"D'Angelo! You're safe!"

The nobleman enjoyed Valentina's enthusiastic embrace but was totally confused by her babblings about his 'escape'. He and Pia looked at each other, both completely baffled by this hysterical welcome. "Too much sun perhaps; what do you think, Pia?"

D'Angelo made the circle at his right ear that indicated madness, and Valentina sputtered impatiently, "Oh, do not jest, D'Angelo! We heard that you were in terrible danger after insulting a Sheik . . ."

D'Angelo frowned. "Sheik? I don't know what you're talking about, girl! There was no one on the way to the village except for one old herder who traded me cloth. His boy kindly brought Pia and myself cool water to drink, so I gave the old man a coin . . ." They neared the wagon now and D'Angelo spied the carelessly lounging figure of Pierto. "And who is this? Why have you taken leisure in our camp, fellow?" The Venetian liked Perto's looks even less than the women had.

Pierto's bow was only faintly insulting. "Pierto, henchman to Lord Polo, sirehere to serve my master by seeing to your safe conduct to the rendezvous point."

Valentina tugged at D'Angelo's arm. "Safe conduct! My lord, this scoundrel frightened us nearly to death with a false tale of your encounter with a fierce desert prince!"

D'Angelo controlled his temper; like Valentina, he was fast learning that the Venetian code of ethics did not always apply in caravan. "Then I would ask him what reason prompted this evil trick. SpeakPierto, is it?"

Pierto shrugged under the barrage of accusing looks cast on him. His smile was ingratiating. "Did it harm them, my little joke? I thought from the baleful looks of these ladies, so woebegone and cheerless in their mud disguises, that a little jest would bring some laughter."

Valentina choked. "Joke? Laughter! My lord, send this man back to whatever hole he came from. It could not be from our Lord Polo that such a . . ." She stopped at D'Angelo's warning glance and her own recollection that Nicolo was known to employ men beneath his own rank quite frequently. He would already know of her foolishness in Laissus; how could she risk his further anger? She took a deep breath and gave over to D'Angelo.

The Venetian told Pierto calmly, "I welcome help from your master, but must warn you that further prankishness will meet with worse rebuke than it has this first time. Until we meet up with Lord Nicolo, I will remain in command here."

None of the women dared speak of Pierto's earlier disdain for D'Angelo; to do so would only make matters worse. Pierto knew this and spoke to the other man with exaggerated admiration. "Indeed, my lordwell you ought to be in charge! Why, mudcaking these ladies to escape notice was a clever thing to be sure, worthy of my master himself! No one, not the lowliest goatherd, and certainly not the Khan, would give these beauties a second glance." Melisse muttered a phrase in her own language and flounced away to sit beneath the shade cloth.

D'Angelo said steadily, "It can do no good to continue your remarks about the women, Pierto."

"Then I will tell you that, though the ladies have gone unremarked in caravan, you, my lord, have not!" Pierto tried to hide the satisfaction in his voice. "I fear you have made some dangerous enemies, Lord D'Angelo, some of whom are sure to move against you."

Valentina said scornfully, "More horrid lies for your own morbid pleasure, henchman!"

"Quiet, Valentina. He is one who would find out such things where I would not. Go on, Pierto; I was not aware of having turned any of these men against me. Certainly none has spoken in anger."

"Ah, but that is the way of these people, my lord. They take insult hard, but in deadly silence. Remember the lowly person who admired your tunic?"

D'Angelo's brow furrowed. "Well . . . yes, though it could have little bearing on what we speak of now."

"It has every bearing! The man had no tunic himself, while you had severalyet you did not offer one to him. It was an insult of the deepest kind, since your place in this caravan has not been that of a great chief and he considers you no better than him."

Valentina could not believe her ears. "A man would challenge another over a garment?" Pierto shrugged. "If he has none of his own and has made his need plain to the more blessed! Oh, he would not kill you obviously over the tunic, sire; he intends to start a fight which will end in your death and his possession of all your tunics."

D'Angelo said with wry humour, "I must confess it's a shock to find out I've been looked on as a fashion setter! Well, there is no need to spill blood; by all means give the man one of mine, Pierto." He paused, then asked curiously, "What if I had said no to the concession?"

Pierto answered softly, "Then I would have to kill him, my lord."

Floria said scathingly, "That's your solution? Then you would be arranging your own death warrant; the fellow's cronies would certainly seek revenge."

"Not so, pretty mudhen." His eyes lazily reminded the maid that, come nightfall, there would be more than talk between them. "I make no claims to stupid heroisma knife in the dark can come from behind as well as from the front."

D'Angelo said hastily, "No cause for that! Give the man the tunic, Pierto; I command you to it."

"That I will do the day before we reach Ayas, sire. But there are others who hate you for other reasons, and they will not be so easily appeased."

Valentina cried, "My lord, do not listen! Is it not strange that the first knowledge you have of so many deadly enemies is at Pierto's lips?"

"Strangebut interesting! What are these other grudges, my friend? Had I but known, I would have brought a wagon full of tunics . . ."

"I would not make light of it, my lord. One hates you for spurning his overtures to you, whom he considers more lowly placed in the caravan than himself. Another man felt the offering of forbidden meat to him was an intentional insult to his religion. You would do well to leave these matters to me: a word here, a gift there . . ."

D'Angelo found Pierto's officiousness increasingly distasteful. He said impatiently, "It is difficult to offer apology where the offense is mutely received . . . but do what you must, Pierto! I will stow pride in favour of safety to our group. Valentina, will you stroll with me away from the camp for a bit? I find the air here oppressive."

Valentina glared at Pierto. "Not even your master would condemn unknowing offense as a crime!" Pia, nervous about Pierto's secret smiles, scurried along with the two highborns, to Valentina's annoyance. She had hoped to have time alone with her guardian to discuss privately her reservations about this man foisted on them by her betrothed.

Pierto waited only long enough for the others to get beyond hearing range before going near to Floria. "Your master has unexpected strength and fire, missand the wisdom to know he cannot pit himself against Lord Nicolo directly. You will do well to learn by his example and accept me as direct courier of our true master's will." He pushed the heavy robe's sleeve up Floria's arm. "It has been too long since I have known a woman; you will find me grateful for your favours. There is a secret place nearby where we can learn the pleasures of our mutual bonds, Floria. Come!"

Floria was clever enough to realize she must win this man's confidence and affection if she valued her position with the Polo entourage. She realized, too, that Pierto was a man who had probably been deprived of female companionship long enough for it to have an impact. She smiled charmingly and said softly, "I, too, have missed another's warmth under the blanket. But that can come later, after you have sampled the cooking that I must do now for our band. After such a long journey, I'm sure you're hungry!"

Pierto gave the thin arm a last squeeze, mollified that Floria obviously wasn't going to deny him the rights he demanded. "I have a greater hunger than the one in my bellybut you will learn about that soon enough!" He cupped her breast, laughing when the maid backed away hurriedly. "I am glad to learn the hint of fulsomeness under your disguise is more than a promise! I go now, woman, but must instruct you to come to my blanket tonight without heavy binding beneath this baggy robe you effect. I am an impatient lover!"

Floria nodded, thinking to herself as she watched the man stride off, Before the night is over, arrogant one, you will be begging me for my patience!

There was no doubt in her mind who would be the expert in this particular relationship.

Floria started the cook pots and idly watched the man who would share her blanket talking to one of their drivers. He's not really a bad-looking fellow; his skin is smooth, if dark, and he does not smell so pungently as do many of these foreigners . . .

Pierto, for his part, was thinking only of the liaison he'd just formed with one whose slipperiness seemed to rival his own. The driver's masked face and mysterious manner intrigued the aide almost as much as the gold ring on the hand clasping his own in consummation of a bargain made . . .

After their simple meal, Valentina invited Floria for a short walk under the stars. She barely contained herself until the two were beyond the rim of the caravan before bursting forth, "Floria, I don't like that man Pierto at all! It disgusts me to think of your being thrown to him like meat to a dog. Nicolo has no right . . ." But he did; she herself had agreed to Foria's bonding to the man . . . She changed course. "We will speak to D'Angelo of this vulgar man's claim on you. I know he will not stand for such trading of your favours!"

Floria smiled inwardly to think that her mistress still fancied that all women shared the same romantic approach to passion and love. "My naive darling, I have had complete understanding of what goes on between men and women since I was a child sent to take food to the field workers."

Valentina floundered, knowing her friend was trying to tell her how wide a span there was between love for a lady and love for a maid. Even her mother had grasped and accepted the fact that, for Floria, sexual activity was no earthshaking event to be taken seriously. "But for Nicolo to give you to this henchman for his pleasureI don't think he realizes what a cruel thing he has done!"

Floria said nothing, since she understood Nicolo's calculating nature much better than her mistress ever would. Someday Valentina would see the difference in Nicolo and D'Angelo, but it was not Floria's place to point it out. "My love, it would be no favour to me if you interceded with D'Angelo on my behalf. It would put your guardian in a most awkward position, as he knows I am bound to Lord Poloand it would place me in a most unfavourable light!"

"But how can we be sure Pierto speaks directly from Nicolo's command?"

"I cannot afford to question his aide, Valentina. I don't want the man speaking against me when we are again dependent on Lord Polo's whims. Believe me, my fate could be worse than a few turns on Pierto's palletif Lord Polo decided my disobedience outweighted my usefulness!''

Valentina could think of no further objections, though she still felt strongly that Floria was being mistreated. "Then promise me, at least, that you will tell me if the man is brutal or too repulsive to bear!"

Floria reminded her gently, "After Darth, could any man be more cruel?" She hugged Valentina warmly. "You do not fool me, little angel; you're afraid I still bear scars inside and out from my husband's cohorts' misuse of me. Well, put that from your mind forever. My brain and body never listen to old tales, but look forward to new, happier adventures!" She gave Valentina her old mischievous grin. "Who knows? This Pierto may be the greatest lover this side of Venice!" Her eyes went over Valentina's shoulder to where she glimpsed Pierto shifting his feet nervously. "He is also impatient. I'll say goodnight, my friend; worry no more about your Floria."

Instead of worrying further about the maid, Valentina found herself feeling some envy. How much simpler Floria's approach to love and passion seemed than her own!

The maid had guessed right: Pierto was less confident about his new relationship than she was. Floria found herself even touched by the fellow's attempts to please. He'd bathed and donned fresh garments and even fashioned a tent-like privacy for them. Floria learned later that the extra blanket needed to do so had been traded for dearly.

It would have shocked Valentina if Floria had told her that she herself had acute physical longings that had gone begging for too long to count; Floria knew a Venetian lady could not understand how, for Floria, any reasonably attractive man would serve. And Pierto, as it turned out, was not an unskilled lover; he would have touched her more lingeringly, in admiring wonder, here and there and endlessly so, till Floria groaned her impatience with the delay of pleasure.

"Mercy on me, Pierto! will you move on from squeezing my breasts and thighs as though I were a dressed pig you were trading for?" She guided his aroused manhood to her loins. "There; is that not a better place than these modest leggings you foolishly wore to this bed?"

Poor Pierto could not speak, he being so intent on delaying the powerful culmination of his passion which was rushed by the unusual skill of his partner. "I . . . I think I cannot wait any longer, my wonder . . . !"

But there was no need, as Floria, too, had climbed with him to the point from which there was a dizzying, effortless fall through clouds and starbusts.

Valentina on her nearby blanket, covered her ears to shut out the sounds that brought back too vividly the memories of D'Angelo's first lovemaking.

There was another who watched from the shadows as Pierto had his satisfaction with Floria, waiting until the henchman left the woman sleeping. He spoke to Pierto softly, "Ah, my friend; I am filled with envy! The woman pleases youthis I can see in your face."

"Oh . . . you!" Pierto had his hand on the hilt of his knife as the driver spoke so suddenly out of the dark. "I advise you, my man, not to surprise me in this fashion! My blade could have been quicker than my eyes in this darkness!"

The deep chuckle held no fear; again Pierto found himself wondering about this man who seemed several cuts above his station in both intelligence and manner of speaking. "As befuddled and weak as your woman left your senses? I think I was in no danger, my friend." The man glanced toward the primitive tent where Pierto had lain with Floria. "Your master pays you handsomely . . . but as we spoke of today, I am certain extra gold will not be unwelcome to you."

Pierto peered more closely into the other's face, wondering anew if it was as others said: that the driver was never without a face-covering, due to either hideous scars or other mysterious reasons. "That it won'tespecially since our separate ambitions fit well together." Pierto glanced about him nervously. The slave girl appeared often to be listening to everything said around the camp. "We must be careful; the ears nearby are all loyal to D'Angelo."

"Plus, you have no desire to have Nicolo learn how well you 'protect' his betrothed!"

"Sh-h! If he learned of that, it would mean my life. And yours, too, don't forget that!" Pierto added darkly. "I do not see why you want the Venetian lady anyway; she's fiery-tongued and arrogant toward men of our rank! The underling Floria is a better armful than the other, I can"

The rest was never heard; a strong hand shot out and grabbed Pierto's wrist; Pierto could feel the gold ring biting into his flesh. But the glittering eyes were far more dangerous. "If you should ever so much as touch the Lady . . ."

Pierto said hastily, rubbing his wrist and wondering if he'd gotten more than he'd bargained for, "No . . . no, you misunderstand, my friend! All I care about is getting rid of D'Angelo. Though he did not say it outright, I think the noble has displeased my master . . ."

The other man smiled thinly. "That may be, but were I you I would not rush up to this master of yours with the news once the deed is done! He will be uneasy at a minion's taking on such authority without direct orders."

"Do you think me a complete fool? I have done many shadowy deeds in my lifetime but have never confessed outright to one!"

"Then you're more cunning than I realized. Now let us plan how we must work this thing; it will not do for the sun to come up on our two heads still together . . ."

Melisse, who had in fact been spying on the two men, could hear none of what was said in such low tones, but she sensed a connivance that could bode ill for someone in their caravanno doubt D'Angelo.

But she turned over into conscienceless sleep; D'Angelo was not her master; she was the property of Lord Nicolo and no other. Slaves could not afford to transfer fealty, she reminded herself. Pierto was Nicolo's minion; Melisse would do well to keep any knowledge about him to herself.

Everyone in the Venetian's camp was glad when the caravan halted before sundown the next day. Floria seemed not to notice the speculative gaze from Valentina's direction as the maid moved from starting the cookpot to spreading her blanket. Nor did Pierto's fawning looks disturb her; if the man were enamoured, he would be that much kinder to her, and Floria valued kindness above all else!

D'Angelo said aside to Valentina, when the two had been given their bowls, "Floria doesn't seem to object overly to Pierto's worship of her, you must admit!"

Valentina stared at him in astonishment. "You knew?"

"About the arrangement between her and Pierto sanctioned by Nicolo? Who here does not know he is bedding her, after last night!" He dropped his voice. "Clever, the idea about the blanket tent. Why could I not have thought of it?"

Valentina chose to ignore that. "D'Angelo, I cannot believe you made no effort to protect poor Floria!"

D'Angelo set his pottery dish down so hard, it cracked even further. Damn the minx for blaming him for everything not to her liking! And damn him if he'd tell her he had privately approached Floria about Piertoand been begged not to interfere! "She belongs to Nicolo; if he chose to let his henchman have her, there is little I can do."

Valentina's eyes blazed. "Is this the same man who braved an Arab prince to save me?"

D'Angelo's eyes were just as bright with anger. "The samethough I am beginning to wish I had let him have you! It would have been a just fate!" He gripped her arm so tightly there would no doubt be blue marks the next day. "And, Valentina, if you throw that dish as your eyes tell me you might, Floria will flog us both!" Valentina's hand loosened its grip on one of Floria's precious bowls and D'Angelo said with a return of amusement, "That's much better. I vow, my girl, if you do not learn some control of that temper around Nicolo when he returns, he will doubtless throw you to some woman-hungry minion!"

Valentina's eyes were wide, her voice uncertain: "He . . . he would not. Nicolo would never do such a thing!"

D'Angelo bit deeply into a piece of fruit. "Wouldn't he? I hope you're right."

"I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life! Nicolo is too civilized to . . ." She thought about the things Nicolo had told her that happened in the Khan's harem. His voice had held admiration, not condemnation. "He loves me too much," Valentina finished lamely.

"Good." D'Angelo carefully buried the pit from his fruit. Perhaps a future caravan would camp under an unexpected shade tree!

"What would you do if Nicolo . . ." Too late, she bit the betraying words off.

"If Nicolo gave you away?" The slow smile was infuriating. "In Venice I would do a great deal. Here . . . well, things are very different on foreign soil, Valentina!"

Valentina could bear no more; she flounced away; D'Angelo could hear her crossly telling Pia, who had run after her, "Yes . . . yes! You may have my sugared figs, but, no, I do not wish company on my stroll . . ."

D'Angelo felt slightly ashamed of himself for baiting the girl so. But, damn it, she . . .

"Sire?" Pierto's dark form came between the nobleman and the retreating form of Valentina. "I wonder if I might speak to you away from the others."

D'Angelo followed the man to a private spot. Pierto's manner and voice showed nothing of his usual malicious humour now. "What is it, Pierto? Is there news from the Polos?"

"Not directly, Lord D'Angelo, but what I heard in the next encampment has significance for all of us, as well as for my master. There was one around the campfire I visited who had just returned from Ayas . . ."

D'Angelo listened intently. If there was anything in Pierto's dispatch that affected their reunion with Nicolo, matters could become dangerously complicated. "Where we will meet the Polos? Go on, Piertowhat about Ayas?"

"He reported that the city is under siege by the Sultan of Bundakdar of Babylon. The word spreading along the fires tonight is that we all face terrible danger if we hold this course." "This Sultanwould he attack us for what we carry?"

"He is more fierce than greedy." Pierto added somewhat apologetically, "They say he has a demon's hate of fair-skinned travellers; others could probably bribe their safe conduct into Ayas." Pierto rolled his dark eyes. "Ah, if you could hear the stories told of this cruel king's punishments on his victims! The women, especially, are coveted for use in the harems and subsequent slow torture for the Sultan's pleasure."

D'Angelo thought of Valentina and Pia in the hands of the evil Sultan. "Then we must think of some new plan, Pierto. The Polos would not, I'm sure, expect us to risk our women by going into Ayas as planned."

"Not only would my master expect you to diverge from the meeting scheduledI am certain he has learned by now of the danger to himself and his family and has himself no intention of going into the Sultan's stronghold."

D'Angelo frowned. "Then the decision is made; we will not enter Ayas! But how shall we join up with Nicolo?"

"It is simple, my lord!" Some of Pierto's smugness returned. "My master, Lord Nicolo, always lays alternatives in case one plan goes awry. He told me when I was dispatched that Baghdad would be our optional meeting-place, at a certain house I know of."

D'Angelo said in exasperation, "Then why did you not tell me this at once instead of dwelling on the threat of the Sultan of Bundakdar? We must leave the caravan immediately!"

Pierto's alarm was genuine. "Oh, no, sire! It would be unspeakably dangerous. Too many would notice our escape since we are well known to those on our camp's fringes. There are more than one of these who would betray us to the Sultan's forces!" D'Angelo was reluctant to ask Pierto's advice, but he himself had much to learn about foreign trickeries. "I bow to your superior knowledge of these things, Pierto. If we cannot go on to Ayas and cannot leave at once for Baghdad, I hope you have a better course of action than the only one I see left to us."

Pierto looked interested. "And what is that, my lord?"

"To acquire one of the magic carpets I hear legends of hereabouts!"

To his surprise, Pierto roared with laughter. "Oh, that is a fine jest, my lord; a fine jest! I had begun to think no Venetian had a sense of humour." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "My own plan is less dramatic, I fear, but more practical. It is this: we must slowly drop back in the caravan: We must do this so quietly that none even notices, until at last we are near the last and among herders and traders who are not familiar with our faces."

D'Angelo nodded approvingly. "A clever notion, Pierto. Go on."

The other man looked startled for a moment at the compliment. "Since I have already begun tonight my rounds of the campfires finding where we might trade for camels, we can drop off as soon as we reach the end of caravan."

Should he trust the man? D'Angelo wished he had another alternative, but none was apparent. "We will do as you suggest, Pierto; while mainly concerned for my female charges, I have no wish to be boiled alive by this raging sultan!"

Pierto grinned. "Nor do I, sire! So I will be off to put in motion our retreat." He bowed and would have left, but D'Angelo stopped him.

"Wait. One moment, Pierto, and one admonishment about another subject . . ." "Sire?"

"The girl, Floria; I have not interfered, since she herself wished it sobut I will not stand by if she is abused."

Something flickered in the dark face and was gone. "No need for your warning, my lord, as the woman calls forth tenderness that I did not know was in me." He left.

D'Angelo stared after the fellow, a smile on his lips. Smart Floria! The maid had brought Nicolo's wily henchman to his knees, an advantage that would surely serve in her favour at some future date!

He did not mince words later with the women as he laid out their plans. When Valentina asked him quietly, "Why is this change of direction necessary, my lord? Is there some new danger on the road to Ayas?" he told the girls about the Sultan.

Pia started crying softly. "Oh, sire, it is horrible to think that he would capture and kill us for no reason other than our white skin!"

Melisse, usually silent in official gatherings, snorted delicately. "Kill us? Mistress Pia, if that one captured us, we would gladly trade our fate for the one we dreaded at the hands of the Laissus slavers! There was one I heard of from a fellow slave (whose bronze skin and black hair saved her) who came to be captured by the Sultan of Bundakdar. The girl lived countless days, though her suffering should have killed her in an hour. The monster had her every orificeears, mouth, ears . . . even the private placesas well as tender parts of her body, coated with honey . . ."

Pia said in a tiny voice. "That's . . . that's not so awful, Melisse!"

The slave looked at the younger girl with something akin to pity. "Nonot till the giant ants set on her find the sweet nectar and chew, sting and choke their tender hostess to a lingering death! And this poor slave was not even provided the relief of screaming: her tongue quickly swelled till she could give only hoarse cries that sounded torn from her throat." Melisses voice dropped. "They say the Sultan found the dying girl's croaks and piteous sounds so amusing that he sat in the torture chamber for hours at a time."

Floria said angrily, alarmed by Pia's pale face, "That's enough of your horrid stories, Melisse! Like the others, you probably made it all up! Now see what you've done? Pia was sniffling and crying, her head buried in Valentina's shoulder. "Come, Pia; I'll tuck you abed and sing the song about the woodcutter that you like so much." Floria led the girl away, but not before Pia cried in a high-pitched voice none could help but hear: "I shall never, never eat honey on my cakes again!"

Valentina met Melisse's eyes steadily. "I think I know why you did that, Melisse. It seems cruel, but even a child like Pia has to be warned that she will not always encounter sweetness and laughter."

The slave girl's smile was grateful. "I am glad you understand, Mistress Valentina. Since your experience on the auction block, you have seemed more knowledgeable of the world that was closed to you in Venice."

D'Angelo looked from one to the other: in the firelight, the two exquisite profiles seemed identical. Strange; he had never noticed that the slave girl was almost a dark-haired replica of Valentina! "Remarkable!" He murmured under his breath. "I wonder if Nicolo ever noticed this striking resemblance?"

Valentina leaned back from the fire. "What did you say, my lord?"

"I wanted to ask Melisse if her story was more than a ploy to keep our Pia close by till we are safe again." He looked at the slave intently. ''You spoke of a dark-haired, bronze-skinned girl . . ."

Melisse lowered her head; Valentina was shocked to see a tear roll down the skin that was fair underneath its clay. She could hardly hear the weak whisper.

"Yes, my lord. I was that slave, whose dark hair kept her from notice, as as did the darkish stain for my skin a kind eunuch gave me. Though I was taken away to a faraway market where Lord Polo purchased me, I was in the Sultan's quarters long enough to learn of my friend's fate."

Valentina and D'Angelo looked at each other. They had never seen Melisse cry; the slave girl had always seemed controlled and implacable. "I'll promise you this, Melisse," Valentina said fiercely. "If I find out the Great Khan you are meant for has a reputation for cruelty like that horrid Sultan's, I shall make Nicolo put you back on the next caravan going west!"

Melisse dried her tears, embarrassed that the Venetians had witnessed her momentary weakness. "I accept your kindness, my lady, but my greatest hope is that the Khan will find me so much to his liking that I am given a high place in his harems!"

Valentina said warmly, "There is no doubt of that, Melisse! Why . . . why you will be the most beautiful girl he has ever seen!" They laughed at the look on D'Angelo's face which plainly told them what he was thinking. "Is it not so, my lord?"

D'Angelo smiled. "If you say so, Valentina! After all, was it not mud that my vain Aunt Fornaldo used to slather on her face to make her skin more luminous and soft?"

"You see, Melisse?" Valentina said triumphantly. "When this mud-caking is removed, your skin will be lovelier and creamier than ever!" The slave girl smiled, touching her cheek gingerly. I had not heard of these benefits, in all my days and travels! This aunt of yours, my lady; is she very beautiful, too?"

D'Angelo and his ward looked at each other with shared amusement. Valentina looked away, then, toward the far-off place from whence they'd travelled. "I think," she said wistfully, "at this moment Aunt Fornaldo would be the most beautiful sight in the world!"

The process of gradually dropping back in the caravan was so smoothly done that no outsiders took particular notice of the ruse. D'Angelo even began to feel hope that they would be able to slip away, as planned, much sooner than he'd dared hope. Pierto was a brilliant bargainer, he had to confess; the camels they needed were now in their possessionalong with numerous other necessary items that took little room but would speed their escape to Baghdad.

Pia helped Floria prepared ointment; staying far back in caravan with the animals and herders had its drawbacks. The black insects that braved mud for tender skin were torturous. "Blasted little devils!" Pia slapped at an invader. "I swear, the Sultan's tortures could not be much worse! Floria, what are you doing?" The girl forgot the fleas when she saw the maid preparing the cookpot with more meat and vegetables than she had seen since Venice.

"We can't carry the fresh foodstuffs with us, Pia. Since tonight's our last meal here, I saw no reason to keep it from being festive!"

Pia licked her lips. Perhaps at this meal she would be able to eat her fill for a change. "My guardian, also, lightens his load in a way that I thought most unusual . . ." She told Floria how, when the man who had coveted D'Angelo's tunic had been presented with the gift of it, there had been such awed gratitude that the Venetian noble had also sent the man a warm cape which he had no room for.

Truly, everyone was in an affable mood and the ample food made D'Angelo bring forth hoarded skins of wine to accompany the feast. Even Pierto was entertaining, his sly humour producing laughter where it would not have the night before.

Valentina poked Pia when the younger girl's giggles subsided into hiccoughs. "Pia, no more wine for you! I have no wish to be awakened every hour to attend to your queasiness."

Pia smiled sheepishly. "You are right, dear Valentina. Actually, I . . . I do not feel very well already . . ." With a curtsey which was so lopsided as to make Valentina and D'Angelo laugh, the girl was off to her blanket.

"Don't trouble yourself, Mistress; I, too, yearn for my rest and will tuck your little friend in." Melisse's grace was unaffected by unaccustomed spirits as she walked after Pia.

D'Angelo firmly dismissed Floria from the campfire; "I will see to the rest, since I am too restless to sleep. The Lady Valentina will keep me company."

He waited till the girl had gone before coming to sit beside Valentina. "Not for long, I fear, D'Angelo. You filled my winecup too often tonight. I . . . I feel quite dizzy in the head."

D'Angelo said softly, "I find myself in much the same statethough I'm not sure it's altogether from the spirits I've drunk."

"You stared at me so often tonight I thought surely others would notice!"

"Did I?" D'Angelo threw sand on the dying embers and the pair were no longer outlined by the fire's glow. "Perhaps so. You have been such a marvel to me in these past few days that I find myself wondering if I ever knew the real Valentina before."

"You . . . find me changed?"

D'Angelo poured the last of the wine into their cups. "Changed? I'm not sure. Valentina. Like a fine blade, I think your character has emerged sharp and shining for having been held to the grindstone."

This praise made Valentina's heart swell more than any tribute to her beauty could have. "Thank you, my lord. But I am not ashamed to admit that I often think of Venice and the sheltered life I led there with much longing!"

D'Angelo shook his head wonderingly. "Think of the pampered heiress that was the Venetian Valentina: such a contrast to the brave and sturdy traveller sitting with me now! You could not wish to go back to being that salon-flower of old! She was a shadow of your real self, not the Valentina of substance."

The girl smiled, remembering the frivolous days spent in changing from one dress to another, listening to Aunt Fornaldo's gossip, having girlish flirtations with half-grown fortunehunters . . . "You're right, my lord; I could never be satisfied by the silliness of my life in Venicenot now."

D'Angelo's voice was so low she could hardly make out the words. "And the men there: could any ever hold fast the heart of Valentina?"

Her voice shook. "You know they could not, D'Angelo. But the question is a useless one, since I am pledged to Nicolowho is, you must confess, no lily-livered gentleman of worthless pursuits, like those who would have wooed me in Venice!"

D'Angelo struck a sparking coal with the toe of his boot, saying angrily, "That he is not, though there are other things about the man . . . !" He turned abruptly, his hands clasping Valentina's shoulders so hard she almost cried out. "He will be with us again within a day or so, and I must again steel myself to watching his arrogance, his patronizing use of all of us . . ."

Valentina was alarmed. "Sh-h. Pierto will hear and tell him!"

D'Angelo's eyes blazed down into her eyes. "Will he? Then let us give the henchman even more to tell his master . . ." Before Valentina knew what was happening, D'Angelo had swept her up and carried her off into the darkness.

"D'Angelo, are you crazy? If Nicolo hears of this (and you can be sure Pierto will tell him with great pleasure!), we will both be thrown from the caravan, to certain death!"

He put her down and Valentina saw they were near some large rocks which hid them from the few remaining lights of campfires up and down the caravan. D'Angelo was calmly spreading his outer robe and told her casually, "Then perhaps I should ease your worry by telling you that Pierto and the camel driver he seems friendly with have gone scouting for extra fodder for the camels."

The wine and D'Angelo's demands were too much to fight; the warmth of desire spreading through her body left no room for loyalty to Nicolo or pride that it was she here instead of Pia.

"D'Angelo! The fleas!" He had freed her body from its unlovely covering and was covering the white flesh beneath with impatient kisses.

He was tugging at his own garments, then. "They'll have to wait; it's my turn to have a taste of your charms, my darling." Their hunger was mutual and could wait no longer as passion mounted in both of them. D'Angelo took his lips from Valentina's; "My eyes must have their fill as well, my darling . . . by heaven, how can there be this much beauty in a wasteland!" His hands cupped the full breasts, touching their tips wonderingly, till the girl thought she could bear no more.

"Here?" The whispered question at the touch of silken mound was answered by the opening of soft thighs. His entry came so swiftly and strong that Valentina gave a soft cry.

"Did I hurt you, my precious?"

"I . . . I had almost forgotten how glorious it could be!"

"Oh, my darlinghow many nights have I longed for the feel of you in my arms again!"

"The . . . the bed is a bit rocky, but I like the canopy of stars, D'Angelo!"

He smiled down into her eyes. "Enjoy them for me, my darling, as I have appreciation for only you at the moment." He slipped his hands beneath the girl to lift her buttocks from the pressing rocks, and groaned at the deeper entry that made her gasp as well.

Valentina lost sight of the stars as D'Angelo's mouth covered her own once more, though it seemed to her at a later point that she could reach out and touch them from her peak of ecstasy.

"This must be the last time for us, D'Angelo. Nicolo is no fool. My betrothal to him is binding; my betrayal, if known, would be a dishonour that would not go unpunished." She shivered at the thought of how cold Nicolo's eyes could be when he was displeased. "He thinks me a virgin, D'Angelo. It will be bad enough when he learns that I have deceived him . . ." D'Angelo, leaning over her, smiled into her eyes. "He won't learn of the lie unless you tell him, Valentina! I certainly don't intend to enlighten him." He went on calmly, "And if he attempted to bed you, he would be breaking the terms of our agreement, thus breaking your troth to him."

Valentina stared at her guardian. "Agreement? D'Angelo, did you and Nicolo discuss my . . . my virginity?"

D'Angelo, lying on his back beside her did not see the storm gathering behind her eyes. He said with satisfaction, "He was properly respectful of it and agreed on his honour not to tamper with it, smart fellow! Otherwise, I should certainly never have agreed to the engagement." He rolled over and reached for Valentina. "Don't dress yet, my darling; I want to make love to you again; there will be so many lonely nights ahead when I dare not even touch you . . ." The girl moved beyond his grasp and said lightly, her face in the shadows,

"How true, my lord! But I am still interested in this news about the verbal bargaining over my maidenhead which passed between yourself and Nicolo." The voice was so soft D'Angelo could not know of the rising rage behind it. "I begin to see evidence that yours was the better part of the agreement; not only have your ships been freed and my body in your possession tonight and other nights, but you have made other gains as well!"

"And what might those be, my love?" D'Angelo still did not hear the rumble of the volcano next to him.

"Floria told me of your successful arrangements with several traders when we were stopped at Radus . . ."

"It was most fortunate; D'Angelo coffers will again be full, sweet Valentina."

She stood up suddenly, her eyes blazing down at him in controlled fury. "And most unfortunate, monster, that you have revealed how you discussed my womanhood with another manjust as though I were a slave like Melisse!"

"Valentina, I did not mean . . ." D'Angelo sat up, alarmed that his contentment had led him into revelations that could be terribly misunderstood.

"The worst of it is that you smugly arranged the matter so that, while your greed for gold would be fulfilled, any desire Nicolo might have for meor I for himcould not!" She stamped her foot. "At first I was most terribly hurt that you agreed to my betrothal so easily, but I can see the reason of it now. No doubt you had some even more devious scheme of having me kidnapped just outside the gates of Cathay!"

D'Angelo was startled that the girl's hysterical accusation was close to the truth. "I've only thought of your protection, Valentina."

"Of my protection? Nothing at all of the riches that have come to you since joining with Nicolo?"

"Well, of course it was important to restore my fortunes. If I were a pauper, how could I . . ."

He watched her walk swiftly back to camp, away from him, and finished the sentence half to himself ". . . how could I win you back from Nicolo?" He started to run after her, to take her back into his arms and tell her how he had never had the slightest intention of allowing Nicolo to have her . . .

"No." He gathered up the robe that, only moments before, had been the site of rapturous lovemaking. "No; it is better that she hates me for a time. It will make her more charming to Nicolo, and insure her safety till the time is ripe for me to retrieve her for myself." He walked slowly back to his blanket. Valentina, on hers, tossed and turned, finally sitting up to shake an innocent Pia next to her. "Wake up, Pia! Your snoring keeps me awake!"

"Wha? Oh, Valentina! G'night, love." The other girl turned over and was soon gently snoring again.

"That's the last time I'll ever let you have wine in the evening, miss!" Valentina hissed ungenerously. And to herself she said even less charitably, "And that goes for you, too, Contessa di Cortivanni! It turns you into a . . ." With a few more uncomplimentary remarks, she was fast asleep.

"Valentina, they say we must hurry. Quietly . . . quietly. He said we must not wake Pia." Floria's voice, gentle though it was, permeated Valentina's dreams sharply. "Come, the camels are packed and Pierto and Melisse are waiting . . ."

"But what of Pia?" The younger girl was still making soft sleeping sounds. "And . . . and D'Angelo. I do not understand this, Floria. Why aren't they coming, too?"

Floria helped her fold her blanket, hiding her own worry about this change in plans. But D'Angelo had instructed her to do as Pierto told her. "Pierto learned of a new peril last evening, love. Some scurrilous types schemed in his hearing to betray us to thieves not far from here who would then waylay us. We will fool them by dividing into two groupsone leaving secretly, the other staying long enough to throw off their plan."

Valentina was fully awake now. "Then we must wake Pia at once! She cannot be left here!"

"That was my thought, too, my lady. But Pierto says it would seem more suspicious with no females about the camp. And, besides . . ." Floria hesitated. "Your guardian said your little Pia would be of the most use to him." "I'm sure she will," Valentina said coldly.

"I mean, in implementing the diversion planned to further fox the rogues who would follow us. Pia knows the language; Pierto thinks that will be important."

"I do not like this, Floria. I've heard Nicolo say, many times, that safety is found in staying together. Separating sounds like more of Pierto's deviousness . . . what did D'Angelo think of this plan?"

"I'll be truthful; your guradian was not enthusiastic. But he agreed with Pierto that it would be less risky than all leaving together, thus asking for almost certain ambush."

"But Pia . . . !" Valentina looked over at the sleeping innocence. Resentments aside, she hated to be separated from her little companion whose devotion had never wavered. "So young, so trusting! Can it not be one of us who stays behind?"

Floria handed the other the bag of personal things that she had been gathering as Valentina talked. "No, my love; I have already offered myself in Pia's place, but your guardian was firm on having Pia with him."

He certainly wouldn't want me, after the harsh words that passed between us last night! Valentina told herself, resignedly following Floria to the distant edge of the still-sleeping caravan where the others waited. She ignored Pierto's low greeting, going directly to Melisse, barely discernible in heavy robing. "What do you think about this business, Melisse?" she whispered as the two prepared for mounting.

"I do not like it, my lady. This story about thieveswell, it is my instinct that Pierto would as quickly deal with them as risk himself to protect us."

Valentina agreed with her privately, but remembered it was left to her to maintain respect for the hierarchy. ''Still, our lord D'Angelo seconded the scheme and he has not failed us before now."

The slave cast worried looks backward, to the place they'd left. "I know; but caravan wisdom holds that banding together means survival. Splitting our number seems unwise . . . but, then, what does a slave know about such things?"

More than a lady of Venice, Valentina thought dolefully. For the first time she envied Melisse with her simple course of following behind one master or another, with no liberty to doubt or question.

They stopped after a few hours, to rest and await the rest of their band who were to catch up with them here by nightfall. Valentina was too weary to watch for them, though she was still worried about leaving Pia behind; she fell asleep almost at once.

Again, it was Floria who jarred her from sleep. "Valentina, wake up! There's someone approaching; the dust is flying and I see . . ."

Their eyes shaded against the dying sun, the women straining for a glimpse of their cohorts.

But there was no sign of Pia, or of the tall Venetianonly, it appeared, the few drivers who had been left behind and a camel loaded with supplies from the abandoned camp.

Pierto forestalled the anxious women from running out to meet the arriving contingent. "Wait! I will go to discover what has happened." Valentina would have been horrified to see on the henchman's face a fleeting grin as he ran out to greet the riders. But all she could see was Pierto drawing aside the tallest of the drivers and engaging in earnest conversation with him.

It would have shocked her to hear the exchange between the two men:

"It is done?"

The eyes in the well-swathed face glittered. "It is done, Pierto. But afterwards the little one would not leave his side." The burning eyes lit on Valentina, leaning forward in the knot of people awaiting news of the two Venetians. Pierto was forgotten for the moment. "And she is mine, now."

Pierto hid his alarm. "In the true sense, friendbut you must wait until I give the word to claim the Lady Valentina. I promise it will be before we reach the city, as my master Nicolo is no fool; he will not fail to put stories together if we are not very cunning in how it is arranged that the Venetian woman falls into your arms."

The other said softly, "That, my friend, is left to you, since I have already completed my part of the agreement! I warn you; don't wait too long! I have lived with this consuming fire for Valentina too long already!"

Pierto stroked his smooth cheek, hiding the growing worry about his master's reaction to these matters. It was easy to scheme and plan when the Polos were far away, but now that their reunion approached . . . ! "Leave it to me, brother. The beauty will be between you and your blanket before the spires of Baghdad are glimpsed! And I will ponder a way to separate the lovely slave from the covey of pigeons as well. That one would bring a high price in the outlying city!"

In the driver's gaze was mixed respect and contempt. "It amazes me how you hold no master but greed, Pierto!"

The other smiled slyly. "Like yourself, Man-of-no-face-and-no-name!" The vivid eyes widened. "Is that what I am called?"

Pierto chuckled. "Among other things, yes. But do not dislike the name others have given you: it adds to the fear with which you are regarded and keeps your sleeping space uncrowded at night."

It was the other man's turn to chuckle. "Yes, I have noted how none spreads his blanket near my own!" His eyes chilled again, reminding Pierto that humour had not softened his obligation. "Go now, before our talk is wondered at. Put on a long face, Pierto, and go to the poor females with your sad news about their master!"

The driver mingled with the others while his cohort walked slowly back to the anxious group. Valentina thought her heart would burst before he spoke.

"Alas, a terrible thing has happened, my friends . . ."

Melisse's sudden piercing wail startled them all. "I knew! I knew! They are dead . . . or worse!"

Valentina's white face turned to Pierto's. "It cannot be, can it? Speak, Pierto; if our friends are dead . . . !" She weaved suddenly; Floria caught her and held her closely.

Pierto shook his head sadly. "We are not certain about your little Pia, as she chose to stay at the side of D'Angelo."

"Stay at his side? What has happened to my guardian . . . ?"

"Unfortunately, he was struck from behind as he moved from his blanket to start the diversion he'd planned." Pierto looked over toward the men who'd joined the rest of the group and were preparing for leaving. "I was told that there is no hope for either of your friends. We must move on to Baghdad, postponing our grief until a safer time."

"Postpone?" Valentina felt suddenly nauseated; Pierto's face spun darkly before her. "Are you a monster? Postpone our grief, you say? Pia is back there somewhere, you fool! We must retrieve her! Floria, do you stand with this heartless fellowor will you go with me?"

Floria took her lady's arm. "We cannot leave here, my lady. If the thieves did not capture us, we would still be bait for any who chose to betray us to the Sultan's forces. There is no choice, Valentina! Our only hope for survival lies aheadnot behind!"

"Well, I will not give up with the rest of you. There will be someone . . . someone who . . . will . . . help." Valentina made a grab for the rope dangling from the camel near Pierto. Before she could be reached by the two women, she fell to the ground.

"Grief . . . the shock has made her faint," Pierto said uncertainly.

Floria glared up at him from where she held her friend's still forehead, "It has not helpedbut it is not the total cause. She's burning with fever."

"But we cannot stay here. The morning would find us all with slit throats!"

"Then you must devise some way to transport her comfortably. The first throes of fever will make riding upright impossible."

Pierto's face turned pale. "We cannot move into a foreign city with a woman ill with unknown fever."

Floria stood in front of him, her small form taut and her face filled with ferocious determination. "If you babble for one moment more, I shall see to it that your master hears of a thousand breaches of loyalty, Pierto! And your lying with me on future nights will be made more thrilling by wondering when your throat will be slit by my knife!"

Pierto backed away from the raging fury that was growing in Floria. "All right, little hotblood, we will devise a net at the side of the camel to carry the sick lady whom you apparently love above your own life. But we must be careful that no one outside our group learns of her sudden disease." He became more cheerful, as he realized this provided a brilliant means of getting out of his bargain with the mysterious camel driver. Who would want as paramour a woman suspected of carrying . . . plague?

"Very well, Floria, let us be on our way, as those who murdered D'Angelo may have discovered our trick and even now may be in pursuit!"

It was a dream, Valentina thought, as her aching body bounced against the camel's side. Every muscle seemed twisted. Her mouth would never know dampness again. In her haze of fever and pain, she was aware that sometimes Melisse, and sometimes Floria, brought cool cloths and soothing words to make her more comfortable.

Valentina had no way of knowing that the unknown fever, miserable though it was, had saved her from the man who had conspired with Pierto for her. The mysterious man sulked when Pierto gave him exaggerated accounts of Valentina's terrible illness, but made no attempts to get closer to the prize he coveted.

No man, no matter how intense his passion, would dare come near the one who carried the deadly plague!

Chapter Six

Plague

There was mumbling among the drivers when Baghdad, the city of spires and domes, older than any man's memory, was reached. "It will be too dangerous to carry her inside," they grumbled among themselves.

Valentina was too sick to know or care about the problem she was causing. Nor did she hear Pierto tell the others of his intent to reconnoiter the city by himself to locate the house where they were to meet the Polos. She did hear him tell Floria worriedly, "We must be careful that she is not seen. A delirious, fevered patient would cause gossip that could spread like a contagious disease!"

He came back from his exploration of the inner city with even more worry on his dark face. Floria drew him away from the others, as she wanted no more burden falling on her sick mistress. "Is there no word of the Polos? We must get Valentina to a soft bed as quickly as . . ." Pierto said, "It seems the gods laugh at us at every turn, and wait only till one danger fades before sending another sign of their disfavour! There has been plague reported in every quarter of the city, with the smell of the charpits heavy in the air." He glanced over at Valentina, whose stillness seemed ominous. "We would be thrown into the quarantine pits on sight if she were glimpsed, Floria. And perhaps rightly so! Does it not strike you that we can save ourselves if we leave that one here outside the gates?"

Floria trembled with anger. "Fool! Have you no sense at all? Would you abandon a sick, helpless girl without even knowing why? I have heard you speak about Valentina's fever, but I have said nothing, since I supposed you to have good reason. But I cannot believe that you haven't better knowledge of the disease you fear so much! Valentina's skin is smooththere are none of the boils of the plaguesee for yourself!"She pulled the netting from Valentina's face. "Lookcan that be plague, when there is not one mark?" She leaned over to him. "And what of Melisse, and myself? We have breathed Valentina's air and have been close to her, and yet we are not sick!"

Pierto, looking around nervously to be sure his cohort was not nearby to see Valentina's unmarked face, whispered back, "Don't shout so, Floria! If the drivers see more discord between us . . ." He smiled with some of his old confidence. "You are right, of course. The girl has only a simple fever and must be carried into the city as planned. I will think of something!"

"You'd better, my friend. I don't think your master would be pleased to hear how you abandoned his intended bride outside the gatesjust because she was weak from some sort of desert malady!"

Pierto didn't tell her that that thought had occurred to him when he saw Valentina's unmarked skin. But Floria had to admit that Pierto's deviousness had its benefits as he led them safely that night through a back way into the city. Honest men like D'Angelo would never have known the way.

Valentina smiled for the first time when she was placed in a real bed whose marvelous softness felt like the clouds pierced by the spires of Baghdad.

Floria was glad her mistress was not able to hear the cold reaction from Lord Nicolo when the Polos came to the house in Baghdad and discovered the new developments. Maffeo and Marco were visibly shaken by the news of D'Angelo's and Pia's misfortunes and seemed concerned about Valentina.

Nicolo, however, barely commented on the loss of the two Venetians, saying, "I will learn more about that sad occurrence after we have assessed the current danger of your lady's sickness."

Maffeo, though familiar with his brother's singleminded policy of thinking first of the group chided him for his unfeeling remarks. "Be quiet, brother! The poor girl is sleeping in the next room, and must not be reminded of the tragedy that befell her friends."

"I am sorry for it, Maffeo, but my chief worry now is frightened citizensnot to mention the soldiers who patrol the rim of the city to intercept carriers of the disease." He turned to Pierto. "This place will not be safe for long. The hysteria is growing, and a house-to-house search for victims of the plague is planned. We cannot stay here long."

All eyes went to the door behind which Valentina slept innocently, unaware that her fate was again being decided. Pierto, carefully avoiding Floria's eyes, voiced the question that hung heavy in the air. "The Lady Valentina, sire, will she be able to move with us quickly?"

Nicolo turned to Floria. "You have been the nurse, Floria. I leave it to you to decide if the lady will be fit to travel within the next two days."

Two days! Floria carefully restrained her anger. Valentina would not be helped by an outburst that could result in their both being left behind. "My lord, Lady Valentina is still weak from her fever, but she has passed the crisis."

"She did not know me when I went to her side an hour ago."

Floria said steadily, "That is normal for one subjected to pain and grief at the same time."

Nicolo said in an aggrieved tone, "She grasped my hand, calling for D'Angelo."

"Sire, he and Pia were her last ties to her family! Does it surprise you that her sickness keeps them alive in her mind?"

Nicolo agreed reluctantly, "I suppose not. Still, I must have a decision from you. Can the girl be restored to reasonable health soon?"

Marco would have spoken, but his father put out a hand of silence while Floria said slowly, "I believe so, if I may be helped in fooling her that the friends she thinks of constantly await us not far from here."

Maffeo stepped forward eagerly, "I, for one, will do anything, missif it goes toward restoring the lady's health!"

"I, too, Floria!" Marco shouted.

Nicolo stood impassively. "You would have us lie to her or tell her misleading stories about D'Angelo and Pia?"

"Only till she is strong enough to bear the truth, my lord!" Floria said. "Is there a better medicine than hope?" Maffeo put his hand on Nicolo's shoulder. "It's true, brother. How many times have we seen our drivers, on the edge of thirsty death, live against odds at the promise of an approaching oasis?"

Nicolo sighed heavily. "I know I am considered cruel in this matter, but I cannot let even one person put the rest of us in danger. If you had seen the frenzy of hate that Pierto and I have seen. They even talk in the inner city of doing worse to the poor devils held in the quarantine pit!"

Pierto elaborated, "There is talk of cleansing them in the boiling pots, though most are not even as ill as the lady in there!"

Floria gasped. "How horrible! What if our own Pia is among those poor misfortunates? I have heard Pierto comment that many of those confined to the pit are from caravans, and that they are as fair-skinned as ourselves." She saw Pierto's sudden look of alarm. Instinctively she did not pursue the matterwhich might result in her being forbidden. to leave the house. "But, of course, that is not likely at all," she said. Pierto, relieved, turned away to talk to Nicolo of plans for leaving, of bribes for the guards at the east side of the city.

Maffeo, in his gentle way, tried to comfort Floria. "I will go in to see Valentina at once, Floria. If she hears of her guardian and little friend from my lips, perhaps it will help."

"Then I will have some air, since you will be with her, Maffeo."

"Be careful, Floria. Wear your veil and do not venture far."

How the figures blurred in Valentina's vision! First Maffeo, then Nicolo, and even Marco, who stammered over the lie about her friends' well-being. ''Is it true, Marco? Are they here, then? The nightmare was not real after all? Why do they not come to see me?"

"They will see you on the trail to T'saris, my love. They await us even nowso you must grow strong quickly so that we may join your friends."

"Nicolo, is it you?" Valentina's asked, her face lit with such pleasure that the man forgot he had ever considered leaving her behind in Baghdad. "Oh, come closer and tell me of your adventures since last we met!"

"There will be time for that, my darling, after you have eaten the broth and bread Melisse has brought you."

"Melisse! I feel as if I'm seeing everyone after a long, long time away. Mmmm. That smells wonderful!" Valentina began eating the nourishing soup held for her by the slave girl.

Nicolo left the room, satisfied that his betrothed was indeed on her way back to good health.

Melisse asked Marco the questions she would not have dared ask his father. "Where are the monks who were promised to the Khan, Lord Marco? I have not seen them, and assumed them to be afraid to enter this chamber of sickness, but Floria confided there has been no sight of them anywhere."

The boy saw no harm in speaking contemptuously of the two holy men, and his scorn echoed his father's. "Those two? Not far out of Jerusalem they heard rumours of the uprising in Ayas and, thinking we would continue on that route, fled our band. No great loss, if you ask me! The Khan would not have been pleased with that poor show of holiness from our papal fathers."

Melisse nodded, thinking, I hope he will be pleased with me! The quarantine pit was left poorly guarded at night, as the guards had no wish to get nearer to those who were suspected of carrying the plague. Floria managed to get quite close, and when she heard her hoarse whispers into the darkness answered by a herd boy whom she remembered from their last day on the caravan, her heart surged with hope. "Guri, is it you? How did you get here? Is . . . is there anyone else from our crew who was brought here?" She dared not ask about Pia by name.

The boy whispered back, "Only one who is more dead than alive."

How Floria's heart leapt! Could it be that D'Angelo, as well as Pia, still lived? Her eager questions were answered joyfully by Pia herself, whose dark-robed form appeared at the herder's side. The young voice trembled in happiness at seeing hdr colleague. "Floria, can it truly be you? Oh, my dear friend, when we were brought here I worried first about poor D'Angelo's life, then my own. But all the time I prayed for yours and Valentina's safety!"

Floria said, "We are both finenow that you are found. But tell me about D'Angelo. Is he badly injured, as the boy said? Pierto told us he was already dead, back with the caravan."

Pia said with her old spirit, "This Pierto has not spoken straight since he came to us! D'Angelo was struck by some unknown assailant, and left for deadthat much is true. And the drivers were so anxious to run they would not wait for me to see if life remained in poor D'Angelo's body." She stopped, since her angry words caused those sleeping nearby to stir. "Fortunately, another group whose quiet plans for leaving matched ours took pity on us. They kindly provided an extra litter for us." She put an affectionate arm around the herdboy. ''Guri's friends saved our lives, Floria!" "Then I will do what I can for him and his friends! But first, how is D'Angelo now?"

Pia glanced over at a dark form propped nearby. "The wound is healing and the strange dazed ways come less often."

"Don't forget these damned headaches, little one."

"D'Angelo! Oh, my lord. See who has come to save us!"

D'Angelo grinned at Floria. "It is an angelI have no doubt of that!"

Pia tugged at his arm. "And Guri, too, siredon't forget!"

"Forget?" D'Angelo asked softly, "I would stay here if only Guri could be rescued!"

Floria said, "I will bring ropes and food, but it would be dangerous to try to save everyone."

D'Angelo thought a moment, then put his hand on the herdboy's shoulder. "She is right, my friend. I will leave it to you to speak quietly to those you care for, and have them join us here with much secrecy."

"It is done, sire." The boy was off.

"And you, Floria, must hurry if you are not to be thrown in with us! The new guards begin closer patrol of the wall at dawn when their captains are awake to check for a new outbreak of plague among the prisoners."

Floria thought, Valentina, already weak, to be exposed further? Pia read her friend's thoughts and shook her head.

"Don't worry, dear Floria, about our spreading the sickness! Ironically, no one here has the fever that rages within the city. Perhaps, after all, our capture was a blessing in disguise."

"I will be back within the half hour. Stay close to this very spot!" Floria fled back to the house, her feet hardly touching the ground at the thought of the joy her news would bring to Valentina's wan face. She slowed down as she neared her destination. Something warned her not to go to anyone but Maffeo with her wonderful news.

The two of them managed to get the stout ropes into the pits without alarming the guards or attracting people who might confuse the escape. The people huddled at the spot Floria had come to earlier were calm and quiet, waiting patiently for D'Angelo first, since they knew of his injury, and Pia second, to be retrieved. Floria noted that Maffeo embraced both with genuine pleasure and her heart lightened.

They parted with few words from Guri and his friends, who spoke of another caravan not far from Baghdad, which could be reached by nightfall of the next day.

"Will you not come with us? You will be most welcome."

Maffeo shook his head. "Thank you, but my brother has different plans. Perhaps we will meet again!"

"I hope so! Goodbye, Floria, Goodbye, Pia! May God keep you safe."

D'Angelo could hardly wait to speak privately with Floria. "Is she safe?"

There was no need to ask who "she" was. "She's weak from a fever. No, not the plague, my lord! She thinks you have been well and waiting for us somewhere outside the city, so there is no need to speak of the near-murder, if you please, Lord D'Angelo."

"My God, no! She has had enough suffering already."

"She may ask you about it when her thoughts are clear again. I would not keep it from her then." D'Angelo nodded, not realizing that Floria was thinking about the numerous instances she had seen of a woman's sympathy turning into love.

More and more the maid was doubting the suitability of Valentina's choice for a husband!

When they entered the house, Pia looked at the table laid with fresh food. "Oh, D'Angelo, can't my darling Valentina wait for a moment or two? My stomach has gnawed at nothing for so long!"

Everybody laughed. D'Angelo said gravely, "I think Valentina would rather be greeted by girlish squeals than your growling belly, Pia! And I'd like a moment with her first, anyway."

"Mother of God, it is a ghost!" But it was Pierto, whose face was pale at the sight of the man he thought was dead.

Nicolo made no pretense of the pleasure Maffeo had shown at the sight of the noble and his young ward. He said coolly, a hint of a smile at his lips, "It would seem your enemies must kill you twice, noble! I could wish for so vigilant a guardian angel as must watch over you." He looked at Floria. "I think your watching angel must share some credit with another. Our brave Floria might have spared herself some danger by coming to me for aid in your escape."

Floria blushed. "I'm sorry, my lord. My going to the pit without first consulting you was less a mutiny than a wild hope that my friends still lived."

"A hope that was apparently fulfilled! Well, I welcome you back, D'Angeloand your little Pia! We will talk of Laissus another time, after you have cheered Valentina with the sight of you."

D'Angelo's eyes did not waver from the other man's. "Laissus is behind us, Lord Polo. My ships were freed, Valentina rescued, and all of us brought safely together again. What else would there be to discuss?" He bowed stiffly and went to Valentina's room.

"Pierto, I want to . . ." Nicolo cursed to find that the henchman had slipped away. "Where the devil is the fellow?"

Melisse, leaving Valentina's bedside, could have told him that Pierto had hurried to tell the news to his mysterious friend. But she did not, as there would be no evident profit from doing so.

Valentina, much improved, was gazing out her window when she heard someone come in her room. Thinking the visitor to be Maffeo, her most frequent visitor, she didn't turn her head, but said dreamily, "Has Cathay all these strangely shaped houses and towers, Maffeo? I marvel at the domes and spires, but am not sure I would wish to live in such." She stopped and turned, and her hand flew to her lips. "D'Angelo, is it you? Am I dreaming? D'Angelo! I had an awful nightmare in which someone told me you were dead, and Pia . . ." She drew her bed cover over her face and spoke in muffled tones, "Am I so ugly, then? I have seen no mirror, but the look on your face tells me the truth." She took the sheet away and stared at the arm that seemed almost as pale.

D'Angelo said shakily, "Forgive me, dearest, for my shock!" He grasped the slender hand and kissed it. "But you are still beautiful!"

The girl thought suddenly of the last night they'd been togetherhow her curves and softness had delighted him when he was making love to her. But at the same time she heard Nicolo's deep voice outside the door, and a terrible fear seized her.

Never, never must Nicolo learn that his betrothed and D'Angelo have been lovers!

The thought of that cold wrath directed at them brought a chill to her very bones. "Then there is hope! I must say I worried at the uncomplimentary look in Nicolo's eyes when he first visited me!" She patted D'Angelo's hand, as if he were a kindly old uncle.

She could not know that D'Angelo was having thoughts contrary to her own: He sent Pierto to spy. The man had the manner of one who need not worry about D'Angelo for very long.

Was it possible that Nicolo, using Pierto, had manipulated his, D'Angelo's, attempted murder?"

Pierto had not been in the camp when D'Angelo was attacked, but that did not totally absolve him or Nicolo.

His fear for Valentina, if Nicolo should suspect her infidelity, made his voice hard. "And Pia tells me the bare spot on my head does not exactly enhance my looks!" He fingered the healing wound which had been very nearly fatal. "Between the two of us, we could run my dear aunt in Venice out of smelling salts!" He said sternly, "Is that the soup Melisse was feeding you?" D'Angelo pointed at the half-full bowl beside the bed.

"Yes, but I've had . . ."

He finished Melisse's task; his ward dared not protest for fear of choking.

Pia then jumped onto the bed and spoiled any more feeding or eating. He playfully smacked Pia's round behind and told Valentina proudly, "This minx showed her true spirit. She would not leave my side, though she would have been happier if she had!"

Valentina smiled, though the old jealousy tormented her. Pia the heroine! "Then I will give her yet another kiss for her bravery!"

"And what of me? Why do I not get kisses and hugs as well?" They all turned to see Nicolo casually leaning against the door, with a slight smile on his face. D'Angelo straightened to attention. "My love, I suppose you have learned all the details of this miracle." Only D'Angelo caught the slight unease behind the question.

"No, my lord; so far there has only been time for rejoicing." Valentina remembered her resolve to reassure Nicolo of her security to him, and smiled brightly. "But now my rejoicing is for seeing you again, my love!" She held out her arms and did not miss the small look of triumph Nicolo gave to her guardian before embracing her.

The kiss delighted Pia, who pulled D'Angelo toward the door. "Come, my lord, these two lovebirds must be left alone."

D'Angelo was glad to oblige, for reasons he could not share with Pia.

Valentina, left alone with Nicolo for the first time since leaving Venice, found herself a little nervous at the growing ardour of his embrace. Melisse had bathed her and rubbed her with pomade, brushing out the bright hair. Nicolo was aware of these improvements and of the fact that the still full breasts were unbound beneath the soft nightdress.

"Ah, Valentina, how I have dreamed of this." The girl felt her mouth crushed beneath Nicolo's heavy lips.

"My lord, I am still weak; I do not think . . ." She took a deep breath as his rough fingers touched her womanhood.

Nicolo's breath came quicker, then his lips moved to the enjoyment of the perfect breasts fit for a Khan.

The Khan! For a moment Nicolo's desire, swelled by the knowledge of D'Angelo's awareness of this affair with Valentina, wavered. God, how he longed to spread those tender thighs for his bulging need. But he could not.

The girl must remain a virginas a glorious gift for the Great Khan!

But he could satisfy his needs with the tender tricks that had first entranced Valentina. If he made love to her, penetrated her womanhood, Nicolo would learn her secret. His fury would know no bounds!

She then said timidly, "Dear Nicolo! I long for our union with as much impatience as you do, but we must not . . ." She didn't see the smile at Nicolo's lips, as she was pulling his head to rest against her throat. Her whisper came softly against his hair. "I dream so often of those other delights that you taught me in the garden."

Nicolo uttered some phrase in a language Valentina had never heard, then buried his face in the softness of the girl's belly.

"My lord, there is not much time! We must leave tonight, or not at all!"

The pounding at the door made Nicolo angry. It was a rude interruption of his pleasure. Valentina, however, trembled in secret relief, having feared at a certain moment earlier that her betrothed would demand all of her. She hastily pulled up her dress, though not before Pierto had feasted his eyes on her exposed breasts and thighs. How she hated that sly smile!

Nicolo adjusted his own clothes, acting like the stalwart leader whose chief concern was not love, but ambition. "Well, Pierto? Have you new information?"

Valentina was angry because Nicolo acted as if she were not in the room. She kept quiet, however, as she felt the need to know the plans that could govern her own safety, as well as that of her friends.

Pierto's smile dropped from his face; Valentina knew him well enough by now to recognize true worry. He said, "Master, the house-to-house search we dreaded has begun for the woman who many say brought the plague with her."

Valentina gasped and Nicolo's eyes, as well as Pierto's, went to her. "Can he mean me, my lord? I . . . I knew nothing of this. I swear it!"

Nicolo smiled at her, but she saw no smile in his eyes. She was still uneasily conscious of the fact that, as in Laissus, she had brought danger to the group. The suspicion struck her that Nicolo would have left her if she had not shown signs of recovery by now. Deep in her mind was the thought of Pia staying at D'Angelo's side.

She drew herself up. I am sorry if my illness hampered you, Lord Nicolo. I am stronger now and fit for travel!" Her smile matched Nicolo's in brillianceand lack of warmth.

But her returning spirit seemed to have fired her old beauty. "Yes, my precious. I can see that you are!"

Pierto had never seen his master neglect attention to business for a mere woman as he did now.

"Sire, I must remind you we should be out of this city immediately after dark."

Nicolo said impatiently, "Then why do you stand here prattling. You should be preparing the others for departure. I will be with you in a moment." His eyes went back to Valentina's. "After I have had a brief time alone with my intended bride."

Pierto closed the door hastily, and Nicolo drew Valentina back into his arms. "Dare I assume that my lovemaking aided your recovery?" he asked.

"Does the great Nicolo Polo ever turn away from a dare?"

His kiss was deep and demanding, then he pulled away. "Such a pity . . ."

"Pity, sire?"

"That you are so thin from your illness! Look at these bones!" "Floria's cooking will soon restore me, my lord!"

"Let us hope so! I am glad I was not struck down by thieves or fevers!" He laughed. "I only mean, my dear Valentina, that I am the only one who has the experience and knowledge to see us through the gates of the Great Khan's palace."

Valentina almost said that D'Angelo had captained their group quite successfully, but there was no need to further disturb the uneasy alliance between the two strong men.

She said quietly, "I, too, am glad that you are healthy and well, Lord Nicolo, and pray that you remain so."

Her betrothed was pleased with her again, and left, to supervise their escape from Baghdad.

Valentina, left alone, then walked around her room, thinking how she had to regain the endurance that would prevent her being a further hindrance to the others!

The moonless night aided the group in their silent exodus from the scourge-stricken city. More effective than darkness, though, were the carefully placed bribes given to the guards of the city. The women, shrouded and silent, held their breath against the permeating smell of burned flesh, and none breathed freely until the spires of Baghdad were a dim outline on the horizon. The road to Tauris seemed open and safe.

The first great desert was before them. Valentina breathed deeply the clean air around them, then turned to the man beside her. "Can you not stop peering behind us, Maffeo? Surely we are safe now."

Maffeo had learned that Valentina did not react with hysterical fear over any hint of danger. "The Caliph is not as lax as his guards who traded our lives for coin, my lady. Even now, if he should have word of our escape, the desert you admire so would sprout nets to drag us back to him. I do not think you would enjoy his hospitality!''

Valentina shuddered. Was there nowhere in these foreign lands where one could be safe from barbaric chieftains? But her heart wouldn't remain gloomy; she was too joyful to be free of the sickbed and a city stinking of plague. "You become an old lady at the slightest danger, Maffeo! Why would a caliph even sniff at our poor caravan, when there are so many richer ones to take his notice?"

"That may be our salvation, my lady, since we are so few as to be mere specks on this desert. But men like the Caliph are not reasonable; often a whim is more important than gain!"

Several days' hard travel put enough distance between the little caravan and the Caliph that even Maffeo relaxed, saying they were out of danger.

Valentina's colour was restored, as was her energy. Pia commented on the glow of her friend's face, though she teased D'Angelo, "Unfortunately, my lord, you will always show signs of your narrow escape!"

D'Angelo's hand touched the once-sore spot, which was no longer visible. "Signs? There is only a slight scar, and the hair has come back even thicker than before!"

Valentina grinned at her guardian. "What Pia hints at, my lord, is that you bear a mark that is more noticeable than a scar." She touched the square of snow-white hair which had replaced the dark. "Like a white flag, sire!"

D'Angelo laughed. "Well, if I am two-toned, you have grown a new colour as well, since you have gone for these past days bareheaded in the sun!"

Valentina, alarmed, grabbed some of her own hair and peered at it. "Pia, is he right? Is my hair now more red-gold than pale?"

Pia nodded. "And a most becoming change on you, love. It makes you look all afire when you ride against the sun!" She looked down at her girlish form. "But methe only change in me is more plumpness!"

Her friend laughed. "Dear Pia, you are prettier than ever! Come see for yourself." Valentina ran with her young companion to the greenish-tinged oasis where they had camped. The two girls peered solemnly into the depths. A third image appeared as D'Angelo walked up behind them.

"Ugh!" Pia made a face. "I hope my own color is better!" The distortion of the faces in the pool, which was covered with green and purple crustiness, was such that Valentina turned her eyes away.

"Oh, I should hate to arrive in Cathay all ugly and withered."

"Ugly?" She looked up into D'Angelo's eyes, where her image was clear and beautiful.

But Nicolo was approaching. She moved away from D'Angelo to greet her betrothed. "Nicolo, will you still want me for your bride when I am dried-up and ugly from wind and sun?"

He laughed. "What, are you relying on this warped mirror to show you how much more beautiful you have become? D'Angelo, stay a moment. I would like a word with you." The other man, who could not bear to overhear sweet exchanges between Nicolo and Valentina, waited. "Valentina, my dearest, you will not find these matters interesting."

The girl felt the familiar anger at being thought brainless. She moved to the water's edge, intent on splashing coolness on her flushed cheeks. "No, you little idiot!" Nicolo slapped her hand out of the water so hard she fell backwards. D'Angelo stared in astonishment. "Have you no eyes? Mother of God, we have stopped by a pool of foul poison!"

Valentina stared at the signs of death all around them. Before she could get back to her feet, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was Marco! "Stop him! Stop him! He's drinking it!"

Her scream echoed across the brackish pool to where the boy was cupping water to his lips, but it was too late. Marco had already swallowed some of the foul liquid.

Valentina ran to him. "Marco! Are you all right? Did you swallow any?"

Nicolo came to his side quietly. "Wash out your throat and mouth with wine, son. It was a small amount that you swallowed, though I wish it had been none."

Marco was shaken, but he pointed with some spirit to a small deer who had come to sip at the coloured water. "Look! If he can drink so deeply, surely I have not been harmed."

They all watched silently as the small creature, alarmed, ran from the spot. Nicolo said lightly, "Well, it seems fine, but I still forbid any of our party to drink from this place." He patted Marco's head gently. "And Marco, no one traveling in the desert drinks or eats without first learning whether it is fit to do so."

Valentina walked back with Marco, feeling uneasy that he was not yet free from danger. "I'm sorry, my friend. If I had only seen you sooner!"

Marco grinned at her. "You might have kept me from having to drink of my father's warm wine!" He made such a face that the girl laughed. "Now, go to your rest. You are still not as strong as you were. Father says tomorrow will be another hard day!"

Valentina stared at the boy, praying silently that the drink had not harmed him.

Chapter Seven

Assassins

Young Marco, however, became gravely ill.

Nicolo stiffly refused to halt the caravan, though the women pleaded with him. Finally, twelve days out of Tauris, Floria was appointed spokesman on the matter that distressed them all. "My lord, your son would be mortified if he knew I came to you like this, but I must!"

The maid was in awe of her master and his chilly answer did nothing to ease her fear of speaking out. "My lady Valentina has put you up to this, no doubt!"

"No, it was not only Valentina, sire! All of usPia, Valentina, Melisse and Isuffer almost as much as your son as he steadily worsens. I think . . ." Floria swallowed hard, thinking of the boy lying so ill without complaining. "I think, my lord, if we do not pause to give him chance to recover, he . . . he will surely die!" At that, the girl burst into tears. Nicolo, caught off-guard, patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Come now, Floria! Haven't we troubles enough? Tears will not cure Marco's flux . . . nor would a day or two's stopping. The boy is strong! He will overcome his malady, given the same care you have so selflessly accorded him these past days and nights. Girl, dry your tears and return to the patientand take courage from the boy himself. Marco, as you know already, would not endanger the others just to minister to one."

He mistakenly thought his speech would end their discussion, but was shocked to see that Floria was furious. The girl brought from behind her back a handful of bloodstained rags which, when she shook them in her master's face, gave off the putrid stench of Marco's sickness. "Then I will leave these mementos with you, Lord Nicolo, so that you can sleep with them as we do! Perhaps you will be reminded in your dreams of the misery and suffering that your son is undergoing."

Nicolo calmly removed the unsightly cloths from her shaking hand. Nicolo sat down heavily, his deep sigh diminishing Floria's temper. "I had hoped that the boy would recover before now. But if it is still this bad . . ."

The maid said eagerly, "You only have to look at his sad, wasted face, at those pitiful limbsyes, and hear his screams, sire, when the cramps twist his insidesto know how sick he is. I tell you, he will die if there is not more help than our prayers." Floria knelt at her leader's side and spoke quickly, knowing she now had full attention from Marco's father. "My lord, if we could just reach T'saris! Think of itwe would thus avoid the marauding bands who prowl the more travelled trails. No rich caravan would be looked for in that placewe would be safe to seek help for Marco." Nicolo couldn't hide his interest. "How can a sidetrip to a poor village help my son?"

"The slave Melisse was kept once among some Karauma prisoners before you bought her for the Khan. She has told us of a secret purge which is known among the village crones."

Nicolo made a derisive sound. "Till now, you made sense, woman! But you refer now to a lawless breed who ride the sun and wind and care nothing for human life! What makes you or Melisse think the Karaumas would help us, even if they had the magic healing you speak of?"

Floria went on stubbornly, "You know much, my lord. But even you do not have Melisse's ears for secrets that pass among the tongues of the commoners. She knows of their merciless reputation, as you do, but she says there are many who live peaceably." He was softening. She could tell. Her voice went on, softly convincing, "Think about it, sire. Would Melisse, who is passionate only about her pretty skin, promote an idea that could mean disaster to herself as well as all of us?"

Nicolo stared at her then laughed. "Ah, Floria, how you intrigue me with this sharp eye for seeing through to the truth of all of us! And your silver tongueI wish I could have had it in Jerusalem. Go fetch Maffeo, so that he and I can discuss route changes to this T'saris."

Floria turned to go, then came back to retrieve the dirty rags she had thrust at Nicolo. When she tried to take them from him, he held her tight and drew the girl close, his brilliant eyes fastened to her own. "Floria, you have loyalties to everyone but myself, and this hurts me. But I am still awed by your tenderness to a boy who can mean little to you." His hand went to her flat belly and Floria flushed, though she did not flinch in her gaze. "Is it the babe you lost? Is that what brings such loving mothering to my poor son?"

"My lord, if I have needs, they do not cry so loudly as those of the boy dying in that tent." His hands unloosed the rags and she withdrew them gently. "Now, I leave to find Lord Maffeo, as he is often so many places about the caravan that a search may take some time."

Nicolo watched the girl's graceful form until it disappeared around a well-laden camel. His loins ached suddenly for a night with a tender female who could ease some of his burden. He wanted Valentina, of course, and had avoided her since Baghdad, as he was fearful his lust would overcome his purpose in keeping her inviolate.

But this Floria! While he had no special liking for her, still she was spirited and comelyand available, since she was bonded to him.

Pierto came into view and Nicolo's eyes narrowed at the catlike quality of the man who Nicolo knew to be Floria's lover. He called the man over. "Pierto, a word with you."

"With me, my lord?" The man came to his master, self-effacing as always. "How may a poor henchman be of use to my lord?"

Nicolo sometimes found himself disliking this slick underling, but as long as he served him well he would keep him. "Floria," Nicolo told him, "is tending to Marco day and night. You will stay away from her blanket for the rest of the journey."

Pierto's eyes widened. "Does my master tell me I may no longer use the maid for my needs?"

Nicolo nodded. "The girl is too valuable. I will not have her exhausted by a double duty: my son's sickness and your lust."

Pierto would not meet his master's eyes. He was no fool; he knew that the maid was many levels above him, and only allowed him to have her at night because of a lifelong loyalty to authority. Though Floria had often responded in passion to his simple lovemaking, he understood that that, too, was no compliment to him. He understood, too, that Nicolo had lusts of his own, which, for a reason unknown to Pierto, could not be eased with Valentina. "I will do as you say, my master." Pierto bowed. "Do you wish me to speak to the woman about this matter?"

Nicolo responded easily, knowing that Pierto was aware that Floria would only be switching partners, "That won't be necessary, Pierto. I will perform the task. Now, I see my brother coming and will excuse you to your duties."

Pierto felt more sad than resentful. The girl had been soft to his touch, and had made his heart light for many hours.

"So, you are finally swayed from your resolve to move forward. I've seen the boy, Nicolo, and I think your decision is wise. He could not endure much more of this hard caravan!"

Nicolo smiled at his brother. "I see you have spoken with Marco's nurse, as I have, Maffeo. Tell me, then, what do you think of the proposed side trip to this village?"

Maffeo would have braved anyone or anything to bring aid to his nephew, but he only replied, "It isn't, after all, far south, brother. We are near Kuristan, but I feel instinctively that we ought to go south, to this place Melisse knows

Nicolo stared at the fading mountain range beyond them. "Will it be safe, Maffeo? Remember, Marco's life is not the only one at stake if we change our course."

The older Polo smiled. "Safe? Nicolo, you know as well as I that death can wait on one side of a mountain as easily as another. But one must choose."

The other put his arm around the wide shoulders. "You make your point well, Maffeoas always! The south it shall be, though I still think it is risky."

Maffeo shook his head slowly as he made the moves to get caravan moving. "You are mistaken about the boy being as strong as any man, brother! I applaud you for choosing your son's life over stubborness."

It was obvious why the rich caravanessi never sought oasis in the crumbling city that Melisse had guided them to. Nicolo halted his entourage at its edge and looked around. "This is your choice for Marco's healing site?" he asked sarcastically.

Melisse answered firmly, "It may be poorly suited to travellers now, my lord, but you can see from the walls that still stand that the place was once more populated."

Nicolo's sharp eyes scanned the area outlying the city for a campsite. The wall Melisse spoke of would make a safe spot.

D'Angelo pointed out the very place Nicolo had thought of. This Venetian learned fast, thought Maffeo with a murmur of approval.

Nicolo was not prone to give praise, but he gave D'Angelo an admiring nod. "You choose as I would. The ditch just outside that part of the wall could help us escape if we had to, and the wall itself will give us protection." He frowned, and Maffeo looked at his brother questioningly.

"What troubles you, Nicolo? The campsite is better than most."

"I know, Maffeo. But I am strangely uneasy."

D'Angelo said quietly, "Then let us dispatch Melisse on her way to fetch the most able crone to treat Marco. The sooner that errand is done, the sooner we can be gone!''

Nicolo looked at D'Angelo with the first easy smile between them since their rejoining at Baghdad. "It seems we think alike in many ways, D'Angelo. Will you have the girl on her way? Like you, I'd rather not spend one hour more here than we must!"

Having a smattering of the Karauma language, Melisse was able to locate the old hag who knew of a treatment for the illness. With Floria's urgings to hurry, in an hour the three came to Marco's bed. Melisse had no taste for the unpleasant task of holding the patient's head while the old crone forced warm goat's milk down his throat. After Marco vomited, she became nauseated and left the work to Floria and Nicolo.

Again and again, the ailing boy was made to drink, until at last his stomach held fast and the old hag was satisfied. Floria called Melisse again to pass their thanks to the woman, and Nicolo gave her a flask of scented oil as a token of gratitude, which she took with mumbled words. Melisse, glad to see that the boy was better, left with her, and Nicolo was left with Floria and the now-sleeping Marco.

Floria looked at the man next to her with shy respect. "You surprise me, Lord Nicolo. I would have thought you would leave such tasks to me."

The man looked at her in a way that made Floria understand how Valentina's early acquaintance with Nicolo had caused her to go all aflutter. "You? Though D'Angelo signed your bondship over to me, it is I, now, who am under bond to you." He looked over at Marco, now sleeping peacefully for the first time. "You have saved his life . . . and me from future pangs of guilt."

Floria said steadily, "Let us not speak of obligation. Mine is far greater, since you allowed me haven with your caravan. I would have died of loneliness there."

Nicolo looked at her oddly. "You left no one there, girl?"

Floria shook her head, her worn beauty more softened by firelight. "None! And with the babe's ill-timing, I had little hope of finding new relatives or loved ones."

The man knew he must find some way to breach this girl's loyalty to her mistress. Floria could not set off lustful desire as each encounter with the splendid Valentina did, but she could ease his secret loneliness. "I wish to talk more with you, Floria. There are so many things that I cannot speak of with your mistress. Let me speak to Maffeo on setting the guards, and I will come back to join your nightwatch here."

He was soon back, and before long the pair were drinking wine and talking softly of matters that are not often aired between master and servant. Floria found herself pouring out the history that had brought her to Nicolo's bondage, while Nicolo listened, hiding his shock at the violence known to one so young. He asked, with compassion rare for him, "Was there never love in your sad life, poor Floria? No one who could make your body leap with joy and passion? You were only used by crude men who sensed your generous nature?"

Floria watched the flickers of the light on the tent wall. "My lord, I was fortunate to learn quite young that there is a silent gate between that which happens to one's flesh and bones and that which is inflicted on the mind and soul. Not once did a lustful predator scar my close-kept inner beingthe part of me that I treasure most."

Nicolo sipped his wine thoughtfully, his eyes not leaving the woman near him. This girl was perfect for his needs: a rare female who was able to separate passion from devotion. But there was still Valentina between them. "Does your mistress confide in you?"

"Sire?"

"Has she spoken to you of our imposed restrictions?" Floria's face would tell him nothing. Nicolo went on, letting his voice go heavy with the burden of keeping his betrothed pure. "I am bound to stay outside the gates of her cherished maidenhood. To break my promise, to violate her virginity, could mean the worst for all of us. The Great Khan would laugh at my dalliance with women not meant to be a wife, but would be furious with weakness toward my bride."

Floria knew by now the purpose of this interview. She knew, too, that to deny Nicolo rights to her body would ultimately bring harm to Valentina as well as herself.

Always honest, she admitted to herself without shame that she wanted to go to bed with Nicolo. "You want me to come to you tonight, my lord?"

Nicolo's eyes brightened in triumph. He felt his manhood stir at the promise the night held. "Within the half hour, after I leave." He smiled at her, glad the arrangement had not been so difficult as he had feared it might. "The evening in these devils' stronghold will pass agonizingly, I'm afraid. I shall welcome the solace from you, kind Floria."

Melisse, called to assume the care of Marco, saw the slight, dark figure which soon followed Nicolo's into his lodging. But the slave girl never judged, or even wondered at, the events which did not concern her.

Floria wondered how the rough tent and makeshift bedding became so completely transformed into a magical haven for new sensations. Her lovers had always been impatient or brutal like Darth. She had never known a man like Nicolo. He removed each garment with maddening slowness, paying each part of her feminine beauty tender attention.

But Nicolo, who had not known a woman thoroughly since a makeshift affair in Jerusalem, grew eager for their coupling. He shifted the girl into the light from the narrow tent opening, so that the moonlight gleamed on her white breasts and belly. His soft touches brought shivers, and he was satisfied the woman was ready for him. He teased, "What, cold, Floria? I shall do my best to make you warm."

His hands, stroking the soft parts of her and enhancing the love play, kept his promise, till Floria felt that her whole being was on fire. Hardly aware of her total surrender to her need for him, she guided Nicolo's shaft to the center of her longing.

The man responded passionately to the bold show of desire. He drove strongly into the soft tenderness beneath him.

He was even more surprised to hear Floria laugh softly. "Am I so amusing a lover, woman?" he asked, hurt.

"Oh, no, my lord," Floria whispered. "I only laugh with pleasure that at last I have bedded with one who might satisfy me utterly." With that, the girl gently coaxed Nicolo into the loveseat, with her astride him in a way that suited her build as no other way could. Soon he was lost in the almost unbearable ecstasy of Floria's skillful movements. Toward the completion of his lust, he was aware of her straining his head to her breast and could hear her heart pounding hard with her peak of pleasure. After that, he could think only of his own pulsating manhood.

"I think I am warm now, sire!"

Nicolo smiled back. "Not so remarkable, after such lovemaking. It is too bad you have loved so many in your brief womanhood. I would give you to the Khan if you were less used! Your love movements are worthy of his enjoyment."

"That's a compliment which I never expected from you, sire, to be sure. But you gave me the greater compliment earlier."

"What could be a greater compliment than to be told you are fit courtesan for a monarch?"

"Only the one which your body paid mine a few moments before." Floria leaned down, her breath soft at his ear. "Admit it, great leader, this time the mighty Nicolo Polo was not the one in control of the drive to an oasis!"

Nicolo looked startled, then laughed. "Vixen! I am glad there are parts of you softer and sweeter than your tongueor I would let Pierto stripe your pretty skin for that sauciness." He lay back and put his arm over his eyes. "Now be off, so I can sleep."

As Floria reached for the tent flap he added softly, "You read a man's needs well, Floria. Only wise women know when a man grows weary of always leading, ever being responsible for others. But do not expect always to lead as you did tonight!"

He was asleep before the girl was back at her own bed.

Earlier that day Valentina had been excused from her stint at Marco's sickbed, since she had stayed with him the entire night before. D'Angelo was adamant that she give up her devotion to the boy's bedside and scolded, "Do you think yourself indestructible, foolish girl? None of us can do this day and nightand you are only just recovered yourself, Valentina! Stay in your tent while I go into the village to look for fresh food. Floria or Melisse can take your place with Marco." Weary though she was, Valentina noted with sharp resentment that D'Angelo did not recommend Pia as a nurse. But she was too tired to argue. She only looked around her at the desolate ruins where they camped and sighed heavily at the streak of dust mixed with perspiration on the bare arm that she raised to her forehead. "If dirt and grime cause illness, then I am doomed already, D'Angelo. How can one shielded as I from outdoor duties catch so much filth in my skin? However, for one who was known in Venice as the town's most eligible nobleman, you, too, would win no prize for beauty!"

D'Angelo turned from his homely task, smiling not at the dirt and grime Valentina complained of, but at the thought of new evidence of his ward's courage. How he longed to take the besmudged face between his hands and kiss it again and again! But there was more between them than the thin layer of grime. He said gruffly, "There is little time for complaint of any kind, Valentina. I distrust this village as much as Nicolo does. Why, even the camels are uneasy in this encampment! See how they ignore the fodder spread for them, how they flinch at Maffeo's ointment?"

Valentina watched Nicolo's brother about his business of rubbing salve into raw cuts and insect wounds on the beasts. Would Nicolo's true nature ever be revealed to her completely? In Baghdad he was ready to abandon her to the Caliph's henchmen, and on the trail he was reluctant to take measures to save his own son's life. Yet, here was his brother following his instructions for the care of mindless animals! She voiced her wonder, though D'Angelo mistook it as further evidence of her worship for her betrothed. "How wonderful of my lord Nicolo, to see that these poor beasts are so pampered!"

Maffeo looked up briefly. "I dislike destroying such a pretty fancy, my lady, but you mistake my brother's feeling for these camels. Any traveller knows that his life on the desert lasts as long as his beast's."

He went back to his work while Valentina blushed at D'Angelo's chuckles and soft whisper. "Ah, another of your hero's perfections blown to dust. Poor Nicolo, to be bruised by constant tumbles from the throne where you, Valentina, would place him!"

Valentina was too angry to hear the undertone of jealousy in her guardian's jibe, and too proud to let D'Angelo know that she was quickly learning the narrow confines of her betrothed's compassion. She said coldly, "It is my own fault, not his, that I misconstrue Nicolo's concern for our caravan's safety by my naiveté, D'Angelo! Now, since it seems you and I cannot have civilized conversation these days, I shall excuse myself." If the flap to her tent had more substance, it would have slammed behind her resoundingly!

D'Angelo's smile faded. It rankled him that Valentina always seemed to take Nicolo's part. Was she truly so enamored by the man's smooth ways? But it was safer for both of them that the girl continue to be fooled by the caravan leader. He stopped at a hut near the village well, then went on his way to bargain for the fresh foods that everyone craved after days of lean meals.

Valentina lay stiff and grumpy, her frustrations with D'Angelo chasing all possibilities of sleep from her. The dark shapes outside her tent made her call out grouchily, "Who is that intruding on my rest? Go away!"

But the two smiling servants who came in did not understand her. The two steaming pots of water they bore, soon poured invitingly into a round tub, made Valentina speechless with delight.

How long had it been since she enjoyed a real bath? Quickly, she started shedding her dusty robe and shaking her hair loose from its pins, while the two attendants grinned. They giggled and poked each other shyly at the sight of Valentina's emerging beauty, then made excited, unintelligible comments about the vials of oil and perfume this white goddess produced from her secret hoard of treasures.

Valentina, reminded of her modesty by the chorus of admiring sounds, protested feebly when the hags tugged at her remaining undergarment. "Wait, I don't need . . ." But she was by this time immersed in the scented water and too deliciously involved in this rare luxury to forbid further aid. Besides, the soothing scrubbing at her back and gentle sudsing of her hair felt too divine. "It was Lord Nicolo who sent you to me, wasn't it?" she asked dreamily. The servants, anxious to please the lovely foreigner, nodded eagerly. Valentina leaned back contentedly, closing her eyes. Ah, Nicolo! Never again will I think of you as cold or callous! Indeed, she would have forgiven the devil himself! She smiled at the thought of how much her values had changed. In Venice, a bath had been no cause for such exaggerated emotions; it had been merely a daily occurrence.

The hags, seeing how the woman languorously half-dozed in her tub, tiptoed from the tent, realizing her need for privacy. They took the coin from the man who awaited them outside and shuffled off to their hovels.

Not opening her eyes for fear that the tub would vanish like a desert mirage, Valentina called out softly, "I must give this up, my friends, before my skin wrinkles like an old woman's." She held out her hand, still closing her gaze on the world which she had to again enter, and clasped the soft cloth held for her.

"If the old crones had charged double, it would have been worth it to see your face so young and happy again, my ward." D'Angelo knew his life would be worthless if Nicolo learned of this eposode, but he had been drawn to view for himself Valentina's pleasure.

The eyes flew open in surprise at the first word, and Valentina sputtered. "D'Angelo! Then it was you and not Nicolo who . . . oh, how could you?" Valentina's anger that she had once again confused her betrothed's sentiments with those longed for made her face flame. Before she realized what she was doing, she'd flung the empty vial at D'Angelo's head.

The man's eyes glittered dangerously and Valentina was afraid she'd gone too far; her anger evaporated and she reminded herself tardily that it had been sweet of him to think of her. After all, it wasn't his fault that she'd assumed it was Nicolo who'd arranged for the bath and not . . . well, at least the bottle missed him!

"Would . . . would you be good enough to hand me the towel, my lord?" She was nervous, now; he had her at his advantage, decidedly. "I . . . shouldn't like Lord Nicolo to find us like this."

He smiled at her, but Valentina didn't care for the humourless glint in his eyes. "I shouldn't like it, either, my lady, as our leader would leap at the slightest reason to have me expelled from the caravan. But," he dangled the towel far beyond her reach; ". . . I've made certain your heroic betrothed is otherwise occupied. Oh, no!" He shook his finger at her, cautioning her, "I wouldn't do that, if I were you. I might forget why I came in here . . ."

Valentina sank back into her tub, not admitting to herself that she found it a little disappointing that D'Angelo had visited her with a more weighty reason than to view her naked charms! "My lord, would it be too much if I asked why you chose this particular time for . . . whatever you wished to talk to me about?" She tried to sound haughtya difficult task, considering that she was hard put to conceal very much of her glistening body with the scrap of cloth the crones had left her. "It is, you must confess, a most informal setting for any sort of serious discussion."

D'Angelo grinned, his eyes feasting enjoyably on Valentina's delectable form. How adorable she was, with a hundred damp ringlets escaping the mass of red-gold curled atop her head! And how futilely she clutched that rag to the full white breasts which gleamed the more alluringly by contrast with the slim, golden-tinged arms . . .

But that must wait, tempting though it was to strip and indulge in a far more pleasant pastime than talk. "Informal, but delightful, my dear ward! Also necessary, however; it has been my observation that you and I of late have had difficulty completing any conversation. You have an annoying habit," he leaned forward, his eyes bright on hers, ". . . of walking offstorming off, rather!before I ever get to complete what I wish to say to you. I don't think, though, that you'll walk off in middle of this interview, my girl!" Valentina's eyes went to the robe and towel captured by her visitor, both inaccessible as that ill-fated neckcloth of their first encounter.

"Very well; I concede you have my ear! Then get on with your discourse, before I catch a chill!" Valentina had to fight to hide a twitch of mirth at the sudden image of Aunt Fornaldo's face if she could see her nephew and his ward conversing in this fashion!

D'Angelo laughed and Valentina suspected he knew what had crossed her mind. "It is not just your ear I hold captive, my dear Valentina! But, to be serious, I have grown more worried than before about this place we camp."

Valentina felt oddly pleased at this confidence placed in her by her guardian. ''More worried? Did your expedition to the village bring about this additional anxiety?"

He looked at her, not really seeing her. "Indeed. As I was wandering about looking for food to buyafter I had commissioned the hags for your bath!I was struck by more oddities than I'd like to count."

"Oddities? D'Angelo, this is a land far from civilized places with people greatly different from ourselves. There are undoubtedly numerous customs that seem strange to visitors . . ."

D'Angelo interrupted her impatiently. "Yes, I'm growing used to the fact that those we encounter hereabouts have foreign ways. But that is not the thing that worries me, or struck me as odd when I was about my business in the village." His voice dropped and Valentina felt a shiver at his words: "It was the lack of men, Valentina! There were no men in the village! None, except for an occasional elderly or crippled male feebly executing the chores that are usually handled by younger, ablebodied men."

Valentina said without conviction, "Perhaps there has been a hunt staged coincidentally with our visit here. Or maybe the men have gone in force to war on another village . . ."

But her words trailed off feebly as D'Angelo said more convincingly, "Or perhaps they hide together on a mountain somewhere close, watching, and ready to attack our caravan at first opportunity."

Valentina gasped. "Attack! D'Angelo, you must tell Nicolo of this at once!"

"I have, and have found that Nicolo's senses are as sharp as my own. The man, for all his flaws, has unfailing instincts where the safety of his caravan is concerned. He told Maffeo early on that these villagers show too little curiosityare almost indifferent to our being here. It is not logical, the two agreed, as I do now; this is far off the usual track. If things were as they should be, these people would be milling about our camp fringes like a group of curious children!"

"What does Nicolo plan to do? Will we leave at once?"

D'Angelo shook his head. "No, Nicolo and Maffeo were in accord with my reasoning on that. To pull away suddenly would show fear and substantiate the idea that we are few in number and near defenseless." His voice went lower still. "Nicolo was most interested in a scheme I set before him, and instructed Maffeo to carry it out at once."

Valentina couldn't keep the note of wonder from her voice. "Nicolo has consented to use a plan devised by one green to caravan ways?" She put her hand to her lips. "Oh, D'Angelo, I didn't mean . . ."

Her guardian smiled thinly. "Never mind. It was not my thought to win a prize from Nicolo or admiration from you when I suggested what we might do to save our skins; I only wished to cooperate in any way I could to get us out of this hellhole alive."

Valentina hugged her shoulders, wondering if it was the darkening sun or D'Angelo's words that were making her feel suddenly cold. "If these people are watching us secretly . . . planning to attack . . . what can we do to protect ourselves, D'Angelo?"

He frowned, hoping his advice to Nicolo had been as sound as the leader's quick action on it had indicated. "That's what we're counting on: that they're watching us, spying on our camp and counting our strength."

Valentina cried out, "But there are so few of us!"

D'Angelo nodded grimly. "That's why I suggested that we dissemble, making our would-be assailants confused about our strength. The drivers have been constantly moving about, calling out to one another from one dark confine before moving furtively to another so rapidly that it would seem two men had answered each other. Maffeo has seen to a confusing movement of camels and supplies." He grinned. "To be honest, I don't think one of us could spy out the actual number in this camp!"

But Valentina knew the grin hid deep concern. "D'Angelo, how can we sleep tonight, helpless in our tents?"

"The desert before us is as dangerous as these unknown spies, Valentina, and death ten times more sure! Nicolo believes, as I do, that these men will not make a move tonight, and he has expanded on my idea by instructing guards to stuff their bedding so that our number will seemingly double the actuality." He didn't tell Valentina the truth, that Nicolo had taken this scheme, too, from D'Angelo without giving credit to the Venetian. Boasting was distasteful to D'Angelo.

Besides, he wanted Valentina to discover for herself the relative worth of the two men who desired her!

"I shan't sleep a wink, to be sure! How can I, or anyone else, with men lurking about spying on us?" She looked about the tent wall as though expecting to see one of the lurking spies outlined there. "I wish we could leave right away."

"Have you forgotten why we came?" D'Angelo gentle reproach made Valentina remember the brave boy who was rapidly benefitting from this uneasy stopover.

"Oh, of course we cannot leave now, after risking so much to come here!" Her generous nature took over driving self-centered fears from Valentina's mind. "As for sleeping, I shall certainly do my best to rest tonight, so I can be prepared for whatever comes the next night!"

D'Angelo's heart lurched at the bravado in her voice. His smile was tender, "At least you're clean and sweet enough for anything!" The eyes mocked her as they had when he first came in. "Now don't you think it's time to come out of that cold bath?" He held out the warm cloth invitingly.

Valentina stepped out gingerly, dripping, toward the outstretched cover and would have clasped it around her, but D'Angelo did this for her.

The delicious warmth and safety of D'Angelo's strong arms were so comforting that Valentina closed her eyes and leaned back, for a moment pretending there were no threats of invaders, no annoying insects and sticky grime, no Nicolo . . .

Nicolo! She would have pulled away from the encircling embrace at the reminder of the dangerous wedge between D'Angelo and herself, but the man had already become discontent with sisterly cuddling and was taking liberties.

The maddening scent of Valentina, fresh from her tub, the rosy body grown warm beneath the towel and D'Angelo's hands made him forgetful of any would-be attackers or Nicolo or anything but the delicious woman in his arms. But when he would have gone further than mere caressing of the warmth between damp thighs, Valentina protested, "No, D'Angelo, you must not . . ." Her struggle freed a pink-tipped breast from the towel and D'Angelo moved quickly to new advantage, till Valentina was sure the warmth of her body would sear the man's eager lips and fingers.

"D'Angelo, there's someone outside the tent!"

The desperate whisper stopped him as her protests had not. When Melisse stepped through the flap, the dark red of D'Angelo's cheeks and Valentina's heaving breasts, fortunately covered again by the towel, would have told the slave what had nearly passed, had not she been distracted by ato hergreater discovery.

"Oh, Madame! Can it be, or do my eyes deceive me? A bath? Oh, such a luxury . . ." The slave took deep breaths, drinking in the fragrance that still drifted upward from the tepid water. Valentina took the opportunity to slip quickly into her robe. She smiled, realizing that all she had to do was offer the tub as insurance to keep Melisse's tongue still if the girl had noticed anything.

"Lord D'Angelo and I were just debating over who would be next . . ."

Melisse's face remained smooth; the slave was not a stranger to bribes for her silence! "I would be most humbly grateful to both of you, my lady! If I had the gifts from the Khan that I will surely have someday, I would share them with you now for the chance to cleanse my poor body of this desert muck!"

The tacit understanding was reached and Melisse eagerly set to stirring the cherished water. Seeing that the slave was oblivious to all but her own needs, D'Angelo teased, "I'll gladly wash your back and hard-reached places, Melisse."

Valentina quickly noted from the slave's face that D'Angelo's humour failed its mark. No slave intended for a king would take such a remark seriously! She brusquely pushed D'Angelo from the tent and found, to Melisse's delight, a new vial of scented oil.

But the slave's rapturous bathing and painstaking attention to tiny blemishes, invisible to Valentina, who admired the girl's dark, perfect skin, soon tired her and the Venetian went to seek out Pia, whom she had not seen all day.

The younger girl was sitting childlike near the cookpot, which was giving off most tempting odors of the fresh meats and greens that had been bought. Maffeo was acting as cook, Floria being at other duties as beforementioned, and had just come with his own bowl to sit beside Pia.

The girl's face lit up as always at the sight of Valentina. Unlike the older girl, Pia was unaware of anything but friendliness between the two. "Oh, Valentina . . . I'm so glad you won't miss Maffeo's wondrous storytelling; why, he's even more entertaining than Nicolo was at the Doge's Palace!"

How long ago that seemed, Valentina thought to herself as she accepted appreciatively the bowl handed her. The bath had heightened her appetite greatly; the soup smelled divine. "Um. If Maffeo's stories are half as delicious as this stew smells, I shall devour them as hungrily! Where are the rest? Do they realize what a fine supper they're missing?"

Pia, who'd sampled the dinner pot several times, answered seriously, as always. She ticked off her fingers, "Well, Melisse . . ."

Valentina said hastily, "I know where Melisse is."

Pia's face crinkled in laughter. "Isn't she funny, the way she runs from Marco's bedside with such faces over her contagious hands?"

Valentina laughed with her, the while thinking that it was no wonder the tub of water had been leapt at so eagerly by the slave. "Then I suppose my Floria is at Marco's side. I'll take her some supper."

Maffeo said quickly, his face still close to his bowl, "No need, as I've taken food to your friend and my brother. Nicolo wished to keep vigil, though he kept Floria nearby to augment his poor knowledge of nursing."

Pia chided Valentina, "Is it not enough that you and I are here, enjoying Maffeo's delicious soup and stories all to ourselves?"

Maffeo said mildly, "Perhaps the Lady Valentina is not so interested in my prattle as you are, little Pia."

Valentina rushed to dispute him. She would not hurt the kind man for anything! "Oh, but I do, Maffeo! It is too quiet in this place and I would find the sound of your voice soothing. And your stories intriguing, I'm sure," she added hastily.

But if she had known beforehand the subject that Maffeo chose to regale his young audience, she would have selected a pastime other than listening to the man's narrative.

He had barely begun when Melisse, sweet and scrubbed from her bath, brought her bowl near to listen, too. Pia made room beside her for the slave with a smile. Valentina, watching her, wondered for the hundredth time how one so kind and simple as little Pia could be secretly deceptive.

But Maffeo was speaking now in his sonorous voice that held them all spellbound.

"You see around us here the old, old lands. I'm certain, too, you feel as I do the aura of strangeness. That is because this was where the Karaumas, once the most dreaded of men, roamed freely here. They exist now in small numbers, but the time was, long ago, when their number abounded.

"Men say there was a successful thief long ago, named Aladdin, who had won so many riches by his loathesome trade that be began to fancy himself the King of Thieves. The title obsessed his mind and he set out to establish his own kingdom, with subjects to do his bidding as he thought fit.

"Toward this end, he first set about making a hidden valley into an earthly paradise, with waterfalls, exotic gardens and the like. The slaves he brought there were women of great beauty. Though you, Melisse, would have scorned their billowing mounds of flesh by your standards, they would provide comfort and love-services according to Aladdin's scheme.

"This accomplished, he had his brigands stay on the lookout for lively young lads who could suit his purposes. These were drugged and spirited within the gold-hued gates, to awaken and think they were in paradise.

"Aladdin did all he could to further the illusion: he told each lad upon his waking that this was Heaven on earth, that he had been brought here by special favour. After a time of stuporous wallowing in the luxuries made freely available to him, the lad soon had no wish to escape. Why should he? More often than not, the life left behind, outside the gates of Heaven, had been drab and hard.

"Then, the boy being soft and gullible, he was instructed in the final lesson he must learn in order to stay forever in Paradise. He must obey, without question, the every command of Aladdinwho was, according to Aladdin himself the right hand of Allah, and must be deaf and blind to all other commands. Neither death nor right nor wrong had meaning, for the lad was convinced he was a tenant of paradise on earth.

"No man could be promised a return to this paradise on earth, or eternity there, unless he set about robbing and killing for Aladdin. This the beguiled youths did, without mercy or restrainthelped by the drug hashish which was freely provided, as well as by the befuddling appearance of truth in all that Aladdin said.

"The cult, founded on greed, hashish and hallucination, grew in proportions, so that all around came to know of 'The Old Man of the Mountain', as Aladdin was now called. But excessive greed, though it built his kingdom, was also his undoing. As more men learned of the cult and its secrets, the greater chance there was for entry to the stronghold by men who could not abide such evil.

"A group of avenging chiefs found their way to the Old Man's hiding place and he was whipped to death for all the murders and deaths that had resulted from his orders. Knowing now that the myth was mortal at its roots, and that Aladdin had been no more than a man more deeply rotted with evil than most, the avengers went on to search out throughout the land all who had embraced the cruel cult's symbols."

Pia shivered in the silence following Maffeo's halted drone, then said fiercely, "I hope they were all captured!"

Valentina added vehemently, "And put to death in hideous fashion!"

Even Melisse was moved to comment, "Or given to the families of their victims for just punishment!"

Maffeo smiled at the pretty faces turned up toward him. "Where is the pretty sympathy I noted early in the voyage? Ah, I agree mere death would have been too good for the rogues. But, alas, there were many who escaped and formed new bands."

Valentina said indignantly, "You said the myth was exploded and there was no more promise of earthly paradise!"

"As often happens, the evil within had been given its way too long, Miss. Besides, there were many who loved the easy life of thievery even more than the promise of Heaven! The trained assassin no doubt learned to love his work as well as it reward."

Melisse who, except for her one outburst, had sat silent while Maffeo spun his tale, said quietly, something in her tone making the others give her their full attention, "Maffeo tells a true tale, my friends. I heard it often when I was a child, and since those who told me the stories were themselves of Karauma descent, I can vouch for its truth." She went on, missing the warning in Maffeo's face and the growing fear around her, "One thing Maffeo left out, though, is the fact that even now we are sitting on ground once crossed by these very Assassins." Pia looked as though she might have jumped up, but Maffeo's large hand kept her still.

Valentina was angry with the slave for bringing a chill into their friendly gathering. "Come now, Melisse; Maffeo was trying to make our hours pass less dully, but you only try to frighten us with silly superstitions." But Valentina could feel her scalp prickle at the fancy that even now some of the disciples of the dreadful Old Man might be watching them from above, waiting for the chance to steal into their midst and cut their throats . . .

Melisse started to speak, but refrained from vindicating her credibility; she could have told the little group more, such as her suspicion that the village itself bore the earmarks of a Karauma settlement. But she said simply, "Not all of the Karaumas are bad. Many of them live normal, simple lives. No doubt the people in this village are as harmless as they seem."

Valentina remembered what D'Angelo had told her about the dearth of men. This made her voice sound angry when she asked Melisse, ''How can you try to frighten us that they might be otherwise? It was your knowledge of the hags and their cure for the illness that led us here."

Melisse hid her eyes to hide her sudden fear. If this was a stronghold of the evil ones, she could be blamed! "There was no other hope for the boy, my lady. Let us hope the risk was worthwhile."

Valentina, suddenly contrite, put her hand on Melisse's shoulder and looked over toward the sickbed tent. Its occupant no longer emitted heartrending cries of pain. "It was. Forgive me, Melisse, but I was afraid more for Pia's fear of nightmares than for myself."

The slave girl had never felt the lips of a noble lady on her forehead till now. Maffeo and Pia looked on approvingly at Valentina's warm gesture of affection for the slave girl, then quickly followed the girl to respective beds.

Melisse, having much more to think about than possible infection from Marco, dutifully accepted her assignment at the patient's side.

Contrary to Valentina's prediction, Pia, having a childlike ability to worry about nothing until it actually happened, went immediately to sleep. Valentina was left to stare sleeplessly into the dark, wondering if at any moment her tent might be invaded by shrieking, hideous assassins.

Though Valentina could swear she had just closed her eyes, Pia was shaking her awake. She murmured grumpily, "Will you go away, girl? I stayed awake, I vow, till only an hour ago!"

The younger laughed. "That tale rivals the one Maffeo told us last night, Valentina! Once, I woke to the sound of what I was sure was an assassin, but it was only you making night sounds." Valentina sat up, fully aware now that their camp could have been attacked during the night. "You would moan in your sleep, too, Pia, if your dreams were about more than baubles and sugarcakes like mine were last night! Why, in my sleep I thought that I was being carried off by these men who had no faces at all, only black spaces where . . ."

Melisse stuck her head in the tent and said crossly, "Lord D'Angelo says if the two of you are not dressed within the next quarter hour, he will drag you out physically!"

Valentina sputtered while Pia laughed. "Oh, don't be such a bear, Valentina! Our guardian only says these things to stir your temper! Melisse, have you ever known such a morning viper as our lady here?"

The slave said mildly, not anxious to damage the new sweetness between herself and the highborn lady, "It is often the way with great ladies, as their sweetness is often used excessively in their evening hours."

Valentina lived up to her reputation for morning crossness. "Will you both leave me to some small privacy? There will be no more privacy between here and Cathay, no doubt, and I wish to enjoy what I have."

Melisse and Pia left their friend to finish her toilette. On leaving the tent, Valentina's foot touched the empty vial she'd thrown at D'Angelo's head and a smile touched her lips. Moments later she was having bread and milk with high-humoured chatter with Floria and the others.

Valentina finally noticed that her maid, former maid, she had to keep reminding herself, was unusually quiet at breakfast. Floria's usual quick retorts to Valentina's banter had become meek.

"Floria, are you quite well this morning? I have never known you to speak so meekly to me!" Valentina demanded. "Even in the old days, at the villa far from Venice, you were quick to give me your true opinion on matters."

Floria smiled, but she found it difficult to meet Valentina's eyes for very long. How could she tell her friend and former mistress that she had spent the night in abandoned lustwith the other's intended husband?

No matter that Nicolo had commanded her to his blanket. Her unease was caused by the knowledge that she went more than willingly, and would gladly go again.

"You are acting strange this morning, Floria!" Pia watched like a hawk the large piece of honey-soaked bread that Floria only picked at. "You're not even eating, and it is so marvelous to have a sweet after all those dried horrors from Baghdad!"

Floria handed her plate to Pia with a smile. "You may have my food, little one! And don't worry about me, any of you, as I am only tired from the tension in this camp."

The girls fell silent at her reminder that all around them were signs of furtiveness, as the men readied for defense against attack. Valentina discovered from one of the drivers that Nicolo had ordered them all to have the camp supplies arranged in such a way that they could be gathered up quickly.

"Why can we not leave now, D'Angelo?" Valentina found herself increasingly nervous about this game of cat and mouse. "Surely, the assassins, if they are truly watching, will know less of our secret strength now than by nightfall!"

The girl had never seen D'Angelo's face look so worried. But her guardian managed a bit of teasing in his reprimand of her: "They will know more than that if you do not keep your voice down, Valentinal!" He smiled at her as though he were speaking of ordinary matters. "And if you keep on peering up into the hills with your pretty brow shaded against the sun, the expected attack will be even earlier!"

Valentina blushed, realizing she had been guilty of that which D'Angelo accused her of. "I will be more careful, my lordI promise! Still, I find it hard to think of our staying here, meekly waiting for our doom."

D'Angelo gave her a thin smile. "I would credit Nicolo Polo with many things, but never meekness, Valentina! We discussed many planshe, Maffeo and Iand the one you mention was the poorest choice. As Nicolo points out, leaving would only place the attack a few hours from here. And our men and beasts tired out when it came."

Valentina stared at him. "Then . . . then there is no question any longer that we will be attacked?"

D'Angelo's eyes held the answer, though he said reassuringly, "Our foreknowledge gives us hope, Valentina, and we will be prepared with a few tricks that no assassin could dream of." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Your courage has been an increasing wonder to me, girl. Though Nicolo has warned expressly that no woman should be enlightened as to our danger here, I am glad you know its full extent. I look to you to strengthen the other femalesmy poor Pia, for instance!" He shook his head, not noticing that Valentina withdrew from him.

Always Pia! Valentina inclined her head so that D'Angelo could not see the sudden brightness in her eyes. "I will try to keep her calm, my lord, though my own heart is tumultuous with fear!" She looked around the camp, at the scurrying activities that Nicolo had commanded. "We are so few, my lord! How can we possibly hold against . . . how many of these assassins do you think there are, D'Angelo?" He wanted to lie, but Valentina's bravery made him tell her truthfully, "Perhaps two hundred, Valentina, if the size of the village is a real measure of its population."

The girl whispered, "And there are at best twenty among us who can bear arms!" She would not burst into tears! She would not! "I will go find Pia now. Often she wanders from the camp, looking for pretty flowers."

The small, retreating back was watched out of sight, then D'Angelo turned resolutely to the tasks in front of him. He found Maffeo and Nicolo closeted in the leader's tent and said without preamble, "Nicolo, we must decide how to protect the women. They cannot be expected to stand with us."

Nicolo said coolly, "Maffeo was only now suggesting their safeguard. We all know that death would be a kinder fate for females left to these savages if we are all killed."

Maffeo cleared his throat. "My lord, the assassins would not brutalize valued animals that they hope to take as booty after battle."

Nicolo nodded approval. "See that each woman has a small knife on her person, Maffeo."

D'Angelo was horrified, thinking of little Pia fending for her life against a murderer, "They will have no use against the rogues' weapons, Nicolo!"

The other man's eyes held D'Angelo's as he said significantly, "They will not used against the assassins, D'Angelo. The women must be instructed to use the knives on themselves if our defense fails."

D'Angelo sank heavily to the pallet. "Then let us work to make our defense strong." The others nodded approval and set to smoothing strategies that might free them from this terror. All was so quiet as darkness fell that Valentina wondered if even the camels and asses knew danger was nearby. She could not bear to huddle any longer with Pia and Melisse near the camp's center, and told the other two, "I must move my legs before they stiffen. Where is Floria?"

"Nicolo called her to Marco earlier." Pia's frozen smile told Valentina that the younger girl had not entirely missed the perilousness of their situation. "But I have not seen her since." She put a tiny hand on the sleeve of Valentina's robe. "Please, Valentina, don't leave me! I feel as if . . . as if even the slightest motion might cause the night to burst into a thousand pieces."

Valentina hugged her friend. "I will only go a few steps to be certain Floria has no need of help with Marco. Melisse will stay with you, Pia." The Venetian walked quietly about, with no sign of the maid or her patient, and nearly cried aloud when a strong hand clasped her arm and another went over her mouth.

"Shh! We are almost ready."

"Nicolo! My God, I thought . . ."

"It could have been one of the assassins. They are that close."

I can't find Floria!"

Nicolo loosened his grip on her arm. "She is safe, with Marco." Valentina could hear the smile in his voice as he said proudly, "Would you believe that the boy tried to struggle off his litter to come to the fray?"

"Knowing his father, I would indeed."

Perhaps it was Valentina's sincere compliment or closeness of death. Something imperceptible changed between the two. Valentina felt Nicolo's lips soft on her forehead, and for the first time since Venice heard real tenderness in her betrothed's voice. "I am sorry for this, my lady. I will do all in my power to retrieve you safely from this horror."

"I know you will, Nicolo."

"If I fail, I want you to use this on yourself, and on the other women if they have no stomach for it."

Valentina felt new terror at the touch of the cold knife placed in her hand. "Oh, my lord, I couldn't!"

His voice hardened. "You must, or suffer agonies that will make you long for death a thousand times a night. I depend on you, Valentina!"

She couldn't answer. Before she could wish Nicolo godspeed, the man was gone and D'Angelo was at her side. Pia and Melisse, their faces pale, were with him. "Did Nicolo give you the knives?"

Valentina knew what he meant. She nodded numbly. "I pray that I won't have to use them!"

D'Angelo's face was thrust close from her own. He said fiercely, "But you will if it comes to it, Valentina. Swear it to me!"

She did so, choking over the promise. Pia, eyes round, whispered, "Valentina, What does our guardian mean?"

"He speaks of the coin for bribes of any would-be capturers."

Pia was satisfied, but Melisse fingered the tiny jewelled dagger she always kept concealed. The slave girl knew what had passed between the two Venetians and would herself have no hesitation in applying her own dagger. She had heard the old crones who retrieved their tub from Valentina's tent cackling over the sport that would be had with the fresh young bodies of the foreign women. Death for a slave was far preferable to being used barbarously by cruel masters! D'Angelo gave them their last instructions. "Quietly, now! Creep into the midst of the animals, and kneel there till we come for you. And, whatever happens, do not cry out!"

"The camels are more excitable, my lord. Should we not kneel among the asses, which are quieter?"

The show of courage from Pia in suggesting a way to improve this nightmare gave them all hope. D'Angelo hugged Pia to him and said warmly, "Good thinking, little one."

"I wish you would come with us, sire!"

D'Angelo's eyes met Valentina's over Pia's head, and the tears in the older girl's eyes made him aware that Valentina had no hopes of ever seeing him alive again.

He was gone. Ten seconds later Nicolo's shrill whistle gave the signal for the night to explode into noise and fire. The girls almost forgot their plight in the wonder of the ring of fire circling their encampment.

Pia's head was buried in Valentina's shoulder. "It must be magic, Valentina! Is Nicolo a sorcerer?"

"Not a sorcerer, Pia, but a very clever man. I had heard of the barrel of powder that the Polos brought from Cathay. Our nobles of Venice scorned it because of its smell and noisiness, but thank God we have it there."

But there was no more energy for talk, as the three girls had all they could do to keep from being trampled by the frightened beasts which hid them from view.

Nicolo and his cohorts soon found there could be no element of nicety or fairness in this battle. The assassins screamed and charged in mindless mania. The only way they could be halted was by sheer butchery.

Since the attackers were used to doing their wickedness in slyer ways than direct battle, they were at some disadvantage now. Instead of stealing into a sleeping camp with throttling ropes and short knives, they had to fight devil fires and long swords.

In the light from the exploding gunpowder, Nicolo could see his drivers hacking and slashing the screaming madmen as they poured out of the darkness. Four dark-robed assassins rushed at him at once, thinking to overcome the leader. Intent on overpowering the single enemy, one caught a flying spark in his robes and had to drop his knife to beat out the searing flames, while the other three hesitated. Nicolo decapitated one with a powerful blow before slashing the others.

The fourth man made the mistake of trying to flee and was cut down from behind. Nicolo stood heaving for breath and would have caught his own death from behind if D'Angelo had not used his sword quickly.

"I thank you, D'Angelo!"

D'Angelo grinned, caught in the excitement of man-to-man combat. "We cannot spare another man, Nicolo."

"Have we lost many?"

"Two good men."

Nicolo cursed, then gave two shrill whistles, and with D'Angelo, Maffeo, and the remaining drivers, he moved slowly to a small circle around the cattle corral. As planned, this gave each man confidence in the safety behind his back, though the dark-faced ones who followed close shouted in glee at what they took to be a retreat.

Amid the cattle, the girls covered their ears to the sickening sounds of flesh death. Above them, in the fray, the carnage was beyond description. Everywhere lay heaps of dead and dying. The ground was slippery with blood.

The gods would not have known which of the three Venetians to award for the most valour. The three men stood their ground, coolly fighting two and sometimes three men at once. All around them, drivers who had never wielded more than a riding prod flashed swords.

The hideous fight never slackened, since the assassins were committed to fight to the death. Even those wounded crawled back out of the shadows to leap on vulnerable men from the caravan. Those fighting for their lives soon began the merciless practice of killing wounded assassins with their long swords.

At last it was over.

The shock and fatigue of the surviving caravan members were not helped by the gruesome sight of blood and mangled corpses everywhere. But Maffeo said wearily, "We must take stock of our dead and wounded, Nicolo. If there are any who can be nursed back to health, we must attempt to do so. There are few enough of us already, as tonight has illustrated most horribly."

Nicolo nodded grimly and he and D'Angelo set about turning bodies of those halfway recognizable to the dawning light. It was an unhappy job which no one wished to lengthen, and soon the three men compared notes on the final accounting of the death toll. "Two wounded barely enough to be counted serviceable within a day's journey . . ."

"Three who will not greet the morning light," D'Angelo said with a silent benediction to the dead men's courage.

Maffeo, whose heart was as tender as his fighting arm had been strong, had to fight nausea over his report: "One here whom I take to be one of our best drivers. He is too cruelly mutilated to be sure, but for the charm around his neck brought from Venice."

D'Angelo put a steadying hand on Maffeo's shoulder. "We will bury it with him, friend, though it may be small comfort in this foreign grave."

Nicolo contradicted sharply, "We will bury none, unless we wish to chance our own bodies among these we mourn. The gunpowder fray terrified many of the assassins away from the battle before it really began. Any lingering here would be fatal.''

Nicolo's coldness concerning those who had given their lives angered D'Angelo and he would have spoken, but Maffeo restrained him reasonably. "My brother is right, Noble. The victory was dear and we must not cancel these poor devils's sacrifice for our survival. Now let us retrieve the ladies, who are no doubt as much endangered by the blood-scenting cattle's hooves as they were from the assassins' knives!"

The two men walked carefully through the carnage to the corral whose occupants were, indeed, milling in rising hysteria at the smell of blood and gore. As D'Angelo stepped over a blood-covered assassin, a dark hand with its last ounce of hatred came out to wrest the Venetian from his balance, and the nobleman fell across the dying attacker. Caught unawares, he had no time to defend himself against the throttling hands which twisted his neck with dying fury.

D'Angelo's vision seemed as dim as his chance for breaking this death grip; he did not see the flashing of sword and heavy sealring as the assailant's threatening arm was sliced from its body. Maffeo saw, however, and he said to the heavily swathed driver who had saved D'Angelo's life, "My friend, I noted you this evening, wondering that a mere driver could fight like a soldier who loves battle more than livestock."

The driver's eyes glittered, though he bowed respectfully at the compliment. His muffled voice would have seemed mocking to any less tired than Maffeo. "I only thought it a pity that one so lofty as Lord D'Angelo should be bested by dying scum. He is deserving of a more worthy foe!"

The fellow was gone to attend to the duties Nicolo had set the drivers about before D'Angelo could regain his senses and thank him, and Maffeo was too involved with comforting the women to think more about the odd reaction of an ignorant camel driver.

"Oh, Maffeo!" Pia hugged her kind friend, unmindful of the blood all over his tunic and boots. "I was so afraid you were all killed and the assassins would come to get us within minutes after the fight was over!"

Valentina, her face pale, handed him the knife she'd been given. "I . . . I do not think we will need this any longer, dear friendthank God!" The girls were too interested in running to D'Angelo's unsteady side to be sickened by the carnage all around them. "D'Angelo! Oh, D'Angelo, you're hurt!"

The man grinned tiredly at them through the blood that smeared his face, rubbing the dark burn left by the assassin's rope. "Only a necklace to remind me that even wounded enemies can still strike!" He dropped his hand from Valentina's shoulder to lift Pia's chin. "But you, little onetell me you were not harmed by anyone?"

Pia hugged her guardian again, while Valentina hid her hurt that, as always, D'Angelo seemed to take her welfare for granted, while Pia captured all his tender concern. "No, my lordI think we were safer than anyone, in our little fortress of legs and hooves!"

"What of Floria and Marco, sire? Are they not with you?"

D'Angelo's face registered a duplication of Valentina's alarm. He had totally forgotten the pair secreted at Nicolo's orders behind an outlying rock! "My God, Valentina, I had not thought . . ." The two ran, weariness forgotten, to the place where Floria had kept Marco away from the fray.

Floria looked up at them, her uncertain grin no whiter than her faceand Valentina's when she saw why.

A dead assassin lay over Marco's slight form, with no question as to his intent, since the lethal knife was still clasped in an impotent grip.

Floria held out her own bloody knife with a shaking hand. "I . . . hope you don't object, Lord D'Angelo, that I made use of this blade other than that which you intended."

Valentina grabbed her old friend and the two wept and laughed together while D'Angelo released Marco from the unwelcome weight on his slender form. The boy said weakly, "Floria was like a tiger protecting her cub! I think the knife went quite through the fellow, hilt and all!"

The elation of victory carried with it energy to get the crippled caravan underway through the escape ditch behind the wall. Though the battle had drained each and every member of the group, there was not one dragging foot. Even the camels and asses seemed eager to put as much space between the nightmare camp and themselves as possible!

Though the plodding journey was quiet, all were thinking how magical it seemed that most were still alive after such a fearsome conflict.

Melisse had her own theory about their miraculous escape. "It was the Emperor's black powder, Lady Valentina! If it had not been for that and the surprise and death to so many of the assassins, we would be lying stretched out along the bodies of those back there!"

Valentina shuddered. Could she have used the knifeon herself . . . on little Pia? She had seen the jewelled dagger that Melisse fingered openly as the battle raged when it seemed the odds for their people were impossible. The slave girl would have inflicted her own death wound, but would she, Valentina, have been able to sink the terrible knife into Pia's breast, and then her own?

Perhaps it was best that she might never know!

Chapter Eight

Sandstorm

The horror of the attack from the assassins faded with the new challenge of desert travel. Valentina found herself fascinated by the ever-changing landscape and the tricks it played on her eyes. But her wonder was small compared to Pia's; that simple girl found the phenomena of desert mirages unbelievable.

"Look, my lady; look at the great city growing from the sand! Can it be, as Maffeo tells us, that the vision we see has no more substance than the shifting sands?"

Valentina caught her breath at the sight her friend was pointing out. "I too, find it hard to believe, Pia. Why, one can almost make out individual tiles on the roofseven men and camels! And I could swear I see a greater caravan than our own approaching the gates of that mystic city!"

But even as Pia and Valentina watched, the landscape lost its astonishing formations and became again a barren waste. Nicolo, who approached, laughed at the expressions on the girls' faces. "A few more deserts, little ones, and you will find the mirages as dull as the rest of us do!"

Valentina turned to her betrothed with a smile, which faded when she saw his banter decried the serious worry on his face. But she was learning not to ask questions about that which did not directly concern her.

Pia, however, was not sensitive to Nicolo's moodiness and would know more about the band's direction. "The haziness of the air seems greater, my lord. It will not keep us from finding the first oasis which the drivers speak about?"

Valentina did not miss the increased worry on Nicolo's face. She suddenly thought of the scene she had witnessed earlier, when she had overheard Floria being told that water for the grain the maid was preparing would not be available. The driver guarding the water skins had been stern and unyielding when Floria joked about the unsalted olives that must do for the midday repast.

Water! Could it be that . . . "Pia, I notice you only drink water when it is not easily accessible! Now, did I not hear Melisse calling you some time ago to relieve her at Marco's bedside?"

Valentina and Nicolo waited till the other was out of hearing range before resuming conversation. The girl said quietly, "I know it is more than empty water pouches that troubles you, my lord. Your eyes strain often for the sun's direction."

Nicolo stared at the lovely face, for a moment forgetting the threat of the hazy overcast Pia had mentioned. If Valentina's calm strength was typical of all, why should he not call everyone in the caravan together and ease his private burden? The drivers were all seasoned; every traveller with him had suffered equal dangers with equal courage.

But, no; a leader could not be tempted to lessen his responsibilities by sharing secret concerns. Yet even as he reminded himself of the mandate, he found himself speaking of the horror that all desert travellers dread. "I fear the worst, Valentina. This air smells of sandstorm." He added quickly, noticing the widening of his companion's eyes, "Do not speak of it, lady! I have told only you, no other."

"Sandstorm, my lord? I have heard of the whirling death . . ."

"Then you know what may face us." But Nicolo knew she did not. No lady of Venice could dream of the choking horrors of a sandstorm.

"Have you encountered such, my lord?"

Nicolo gave a tight smile. "I haveand survived, as you can see." He did not tell her, as he could have, of stifled breath and useless eyes and ears . . . of the days upon days when no miles could be gained . . . of the losses of men and camels. The sandstorm's fierceness could not be predicted; it could scream on for days or for only an hour. The tight smile returned. "However, if it gives you comfort, I can tell you this is not the prime season for storms." Why tell her what I know: that the desert calls its own play, season or none. He hardly acknowledged Valentina's leavetaking, so engrossed was he in the reading of his stiff finger held to opposite palm with resulting shadow.

God's teeth! To go further would be to leap into a death pit, where thousands of bones of men more bold than cautious already rested. Nicolo pulled back to Maffeo's station, his decision made.

"We will stop here, brother. No need to stretch already thin endurance further." Maffeo's long face was drawn. "The oasis . . . it will be four days or longer, I fear."

Nicolo put his hand on Maffeo's shoulder. "I told you, brother; you are no more to blame than any of us for the water's short supply. The monsters behind us may have substituted bad water for good, but you could not be expected to know that."

The other said heavily, "The assassins did not expect us to leave their camp with the water they sold us, so why waste pure quality on dead men? Still, I . . ."

"Yes, Jawad?" Nicolo interrupted his brother to acknowledge the weathered old driver who had walked up to the Polos hesitantly.

Jawad would have launched into the courtesies of his tribe in the presence of one such as Lord Nicolo, but accepted his chieftain's admonition to speak at once about what was troubling him. "Over there, my lord master." The wiry arm swept toward the place where Pia had marvelled at mirages. "See how the sands rise to eat the sun? Have you seen it like this before, my lord?"

"I have been in storms where the sand bites the bone. I have seen the desert red as blood."

Jawad coughed politely. "I know of your superior experience, sire, but I cannot think you have known this rare wind from the south before. It is the idiot south wind; it does not blow from here to there, but rather curls about like a woman's whim. This will be no ordinary storm! Instead we will be blinded and choked by the very air when the cloud descends."

"And what do you suggest, Jawad? I listen carefully to survivors, always."

"We must not stop, master! This demon of the desert could last for a week or a month, and we are still far from oasis!" Nicolo wet his finger, holding it in the air. "No strong current, but I can see how the wind circles about from all directions. I have heard of this: a fog of sand. Yes, we will go on, as you say."

The driver grunted in relief. "Praise Allah for your good sense, master! I had heard of how you used the magic eye to tell direction, but had not seen you use any other way than most men. And with no sun to guide us!"

Nicolo watched the man bow and scurry back to camp, hiding his new worry. The Emperor's magic needle had proved true in most cases but there were some places in the desert where it read falsely! He longed to share this concern with Maffeo, but did not, reasoning that a misery shared with a lesser mind is hot halved, but doubled!

He thought of D'Angelo. For all their abrasions, the Venetian was staunch and intelligent. He went quietly to the noble's tent, hiding a smile at the gentle snores from Pia, the other occupant.

There was no lovemaking to be interrupted, at least. Nicolo thought briefly that D'Angelo must be somewhat like himself in this regard: tenderness had little place on caravan.

But D'Angelo was awake and waiting quietly for Nicolo to justify this intrusion.

"I must speak to you, D'Angelo." The two men went silently into the night and Nicolo said without preamble, "There have been differences between us, but now I call on you to forget them as I have."

D'Angelo said softly, "We will come to those later on, Nicolo. Right now I am your servant, if being so makes all of us safer."

The older man nodded. "Good. Then listen as I tell you of the mystery box I would have you learn to use." D'Angelo's eyes gleamed with interest. He had heard of the instrument used by the Mongols. "It will be the guide we use if the sun fails us, as it likely will."

"Why will you not carry the magic needle, my friend?"

"Because I will be following the other signs, noble. There must be one who watches the box constantly, in case some weird movement is seen, which could tell us if we follow a false lead."

"False lead? Is the needle not reliable?"

"More so than the sun, Venetian! But there are some odd things in the earth that can make the needle speak falsely; that is what I wish you to watch for closely."

"If this is what you tell me I must do, Nicolo, it is what I will do. My eyes will not waver from the magic needle which can lead us from this desert."

"Good!" Nicolo's smile was broad. "I swear, D'Angelo, if it were not for the cross between us, we could be friends."

But D'Angelo's eyes were not friendly. He had grown used to Nicolo's amiableness when things went the leader's way. "I find that hard to believe, friend. I follow your orders only because I find it to my advantage to have a leader who has total charge of his troops."

Nicolo's smile faded. "Then come with me while I show you the mystery box and how it works." D'Angelo waited outside the other's tent while he got the "magic box". Nicolo was careful that the tent flap was kept closed so that the nobleman could not see the sleeping nakedness of Floria, who had been called on to relieve her master's tension.

After the Venetian had left with the Emperor's instrument of magic, the maid called sleepily to Nicolo, "What was it, my lord?"

"Only D'Angelo, my dear." The man tugged his clothing off rapidly. He felt the stirrings of his manhood at the sight of Floria's pale body in his bed.

''D'Angelo!" Floria held the blankets against her. "He did not . . . oh, my lord! Lord D'Angelo did not see me, did he? How he would despise me!"

Nicolo gently eased his share of the blanket from her. "He did not, little bird. Now, since you are awake anyway and my loins hungry again for a woman's softness . . ."

Floria sighed as Nicolo came into her with little loveplay beforehand. He uses me as ruthlessly as he does everyone else, she thought, noting Nicolo no longer bothered with the gentle tactics that had first entranced her.

But she soon learned that Nicolo's private worries were too intense for sleep, and he would make love to his bed partner again and again till Floria felt she would never need satisfaction again.

Even as she thought that, his lips found hers with a passion which, while it had nothing to do with feeling toward her, reminded her that she was a woman who must never question gifts of pleasure.

Floria was too completely exhausted to hear Nicolo leave the tent long before dawn. She would have been as startled as Nicolo was to find Valentina, her robe loose about her, strolling not far from the tent.

Nicolo's brief surge of guilt at his betrothed's beauty made his voice sharp. "Foolish girl, to be wandering when you should be asleep! I vow, lady, your stubborn independence will be the end of you someday."

Valentina bit back the soft greeting at her lips. Truly, she had been nervous about the ominous quiet of her surroundings, and lately she had been uneasily aware of someone watching her from afar. "I was looking for Floria. Pia stayed near Marco last night and said Floria had not come to bed by midnight."

Nicolo said before thinking, "And how would your little softbrained friend know? She sleeps in the tent of your noble guardian!"

Valentina turned white, though Nicolo could not know the full reason. She pulled her robe closer and said something inaudible before fleeing to her own tent which she shared with Melisse. Nicolo looked after her, puzzled, then shrugged. There was much among those three which he did not understand!

The man who watched from the shadows waited until the caravan leader had walked off before returning to his own blanket.

Disappointment over coming so near to possessing the precious prize he coveted kept him from sleep. He kicked a snoring driver. "Roll over, fool, before your snores wake the whole camp!"

And the 'Man-of-no-face-and-no-name' lay sleepless, wondering when there would be another opportunity to seize the woman he desired beyond all else.

In Baghdad, it had been so near!

Morning came, bringing with it the increased threat of the rolling brownness above the caravan. Within an hour drivers and portees alike were enveloped in dust, which peppered throats and nostrils painfully. Men copied females in veiling against the onslaught.

D'Angelo, heavy with the responsibility of reading his "magic box", soon dismounted with the drivers as they forged ahead in the increasing fog of dust. Nicolo's painstaking readings of shadow signs with finger and palm coped with the dark sunlessness. Few complained about the killing pace of travel, since even the beasts sensed the need for distance gain.

The terrible heat grew in intensity, till even seasoned drivers succumbed to cramp, their less affected fellows stopping to assist. The seepage of sweat from aching bodies increased parching thirst till it seemed to all that time stretched endlessly.

The desert gods were tolerant, it seemed; the sand clouds hung above the hardworking caravan for that day and the next. All accepted Nicolo's doling out of water; none complained of his giving the women and a near-unconscious Marco second cups.

After one such water stop, Nicolo drew close to D'Angelo whose grim endurance evoked reluctant admiration. "Often it helps, noble, to share our misery. How does it hold?"

D'Angelo could barely smile for parched lips. "Myself, or the Emperor's magic needle, Nicolo?"

"Since our life depends on the latter, you must know, Venetian! Even though I am aware your eyes burn in their very sockets, I must ask if your vision holds and the needle holds steady. The sun is no longer our ally and we depend completely on the box for our steady course."

D'Angelo said steadily, "The needle dances in the way you showed me was natural, my lord. But mine is the simpler task; praise Maffeo for the bigger job of keeping sickening men from falling completely behind!"

Maffeo cracked a smile at the plaudit which he felt was long overdue. "Nicolo often takes my strength for granted, D'Angelo. But I cannot be sure it will last forever!" He turned to Nicolo. "How much further, brother?"

"A day and a quarter, by my reckoning." "In this heat?" Maffeo knew that the skins of water could last only one day.

Nicolo said, "Jawad tells me the southwind may not have descended yet because of that very heat. Miraculously, its great layer has held the weight of sand-dust above our heads."

D'Angelo stared back over the desert way they had come. "When I think of the wasted water behind us! Remember, Nicolo, when you came to my house in Venice and the fountains in my garden splashed so much our guests complained of the noise?"

"Better not think of water, noble. It will only add to your torment. And you should borrow a face veil from one of your ladies; we cannot afford to have your eyes clogged from sand, any more than mine or Maffeo's."

The brown fog held no longer when nightfall came. Not even Nicolo had expected the horror of the grit sifting and stopping up body orifices till each member of the caravan coughed and choked. By dawn, the sand had covered hopes of visibility. Nicolo ordered the caravan beasts strung together and all drivers to hold on to one another.

The lessening of heat brought little relief, since it meant total onslaught from a scourging dust.

The whirling sands compounded the discomfort brought on by shortness of water. The caravan paused its struggle through the brown fog to settle its night quarters. The cookpot was set inside the nobles' tent before a disastrous discovery was made.

Both Valentina and Pia were missing!

"Maffeo, it was left to you to ride line this past hour! How did these women leave our midst without our noticing?" Nicolo's red-rimmed eyes were wide with alarm. "My brother, they were with us when you said to halt for campI swear it! I made count without stopping while we moved, as you instructed me."

"Your pardon, Maffeo; I should know it is not your fault."

Floria tugged nervously at her master's sleeve. "My lord, I feel hesitant about telling you what I suspect has happened, but in the light of necessity, I must."

Nicolo turned cold eyes to hers. "Only if you value all our lives. Out with it! Time is precious in this sand fog!"

"It . . . it is Pia, sire; the little one has much modesty concerning the . . . ah, call of nature. She always goes far from camp . . ."

Nicolo cursed. "By the gods that plague us, will the wench lose her life over love for private stooling? And Valentina . . . I can see my stubborn betrothed giving in to her friend's sensitivities. Well, let them have their way, but, by damn, no one here will suffer for it! Maffeo, set the torchesthat is all I will concede toand let the silly women find their way back as best they can!"

D'Angelo's face was as hard as Nicolo's. "We will not settle for your solution, Nicolo. You know how the light dims in this night fog!"

"Then go dig your own grave of sand with your precious ladies, noble!"

The two men glared at each other. Maffeo glanced from one to the other, seeing no compromise. "You must remember, Lord D'Angelo, that the law of caravan holds that the many do not suffer for the one."

"I know your damned laws, Maffeo, but right now we are camped and I, for one, have no intention of sitting around here listening to you and our self-righteous leader!" D'Angelo turned to Floria. "You've been trying to tell us something else, Floria; what can you add to this business?"

The maid said with impatience matching D'Angelo's, "Only that there is hope which I have tried to express; the two women had ropes about their waists fastening them together. If we find one, we find the other, my lord."

Nicolo looked at Floria coldly. "The time for sounding the alarm has passed, maid. There is nothing we can do."

"Oh, yes, there is, Nicolo!" D'Angelo snapped. "As you raved of hopelessness, I have been formulating a plan. It is this: we will take a rope, with each holding to the widening spiral, and thus lengthen gradually our span till the women are found."

Nicolo muttered an expletive, though his eyes held admiration for the idea. "Are you inhuman, man? You have gone step for step with all of us, suffering the while, and you would risk your shrivelling bones on the desert on such a wild hope?"

"If you do not allow it, you will have to leave me behind with themand the compass which is your only hope, Nicolo."

Nicolo nodded grimly. "I see. You resort to tactics which I understand, noble. Very well; we will perform this killing search which will only result in added weakness." He rolled his eyes. "The gods mock us! First, foul water from the village I was made to turn to, and now these adventuresome females!"

Floria stepped forward, speaking directly to D'Angelo. She only wished that Valentina were here to see for herself the difference in the two men; Nicolo had once again, as in Baghdad, shown his true colours! "My lord, I will go first if you will allow me. It will ease my guilt for not having kept closer watch on the lady I love above all other women."

"No, Floria. Your courage pleases me, but we must have a stronger hand at the outlying rope. Nicolo . . . ?"

The other man stretched parched lips in a grim smile. "So you offer me the chance to show myself as hero rather than villain? Well, my thanks to you, Venetian, but I am not foolish enough to risk my own life so blatantly. I am needed here, more than any other."

D'Angelo's smile matched the other man's in mirthlessness. "I had no intention of giving you my place in the rescue; I only wished to ask if you think the torches will be of use to us."

For answer, Lord Polo blew his breath, illustrating how sand had filtered inside the tent and was even now smothering the lamp fires. "The light will not travel, noble; we must rely on our sense of touch. Maffeo, fetch the two most alert of our drivers; I insist on their assuming the primary search. D'Angelo must be saved with myself."

The Venetian would have protested, but was forestalled by the taller of the two drivers. That one quickly tied the rope Maffeo held out about his waist and began easing into the blinding dust fog. D'Angelo held the rope till the signal was given at the other end that a circle had been completed; then the noble let it out another two feet.

Thus it went, with the other driver at the opposite side performing the same careful search. At last there was a shout of triumph from that end; Pia was found!

Valentina was no longer attached to her little friend. Pia explained with choking breath how they had pulled apart and been separated by wall upon wall of sand.

The grim search continued, while its object wandered alone in the nightmarish desert, thinking how certain her fate had become. Valentina stumbled in near exhaustion, her throat parched and eyes stinging, till at last she could go no farther. She sank to the sand, thinking feverishly and lovingly of Venice with its splashing fountains and cool, sparkling canals. Her mind lost its fear and entered delirium, where nothing was real except the thick cloud which would be, it seemed, her eternal tomb.

The dim torch that appeared at her side did not penetrate her mindless state; a mirage sent to tempt me, she thought, when it came so close that she discerned another shape.

"Lady Valentina! You are spared! It is a miracle."

The hissing voice could be part of the sands sifting; she would not answer. The dark shape knelt to touch the girl's wrist, then pulled down its veiling from glowing, passionate eyes. "Near unconscious, but, by God, you are alive." He leaned closer.

He could not know that Valentina was paralyzed with unreasoning terror, that she would have screamed had her throat not been dry beyond use. Even in her insensible state, some dark memory was touched by the burning eyes, and a secret voice screamed at her to beware.

Could this be the devil, kissing her through her veilings, murmuring soft words with his caresses, who had come to claim his desert prize?

The words faded and swelled on the winds whirling about them: "Ah, my darling! Once more we are togetherand again I must wait for the call of love which has haunted me for so long!"

She summoned her last strength to speak weakly, knowing all this must be a part of this dreadful dream she was caught up by. "How can you know me, brown devil? How can you have followed me here, to this desolate place?"

The chuckle faded into the desert. "Fate, little foxfate, which led me to Venice to elude bitter enemies. Fate, which put me in the path of your leaders as they searched for men . . ."

The sand demon's voice was muffled by the wind and dust; Valentina only wished for sleep.

But peace could not come while this strange being seemed intent on engulfing her as the desert had nearly done. She would have murmured about the tightness of her face against dark cloth, but could not . . . she did not hear the distant shouts which her rescuer heard, nor his returning shouts.

"She's here! Over here! I've found the Lady Valentina!"

As a last caress smoothed down her face veiling, she glimpsed gleaming gold on the dark hand. Before the darkness closed on her completely, she thought dreamily, I'm in hell, and the Devil is wearing the Cortivanni ring to taunt me . . .

As though knowing it had taxed the caravan to its limits, the dreadful sand thinned during the night that Valentina lay in recuperative sleep after her desert adventure. Morning brought shouts of joy from the drivers, who saw hope of reaching the oasis before the day was gone.

Valentina's youthful resiliance was restored somewhat by refreshments (she could not know the ladies had combined their scant water rations to revive their friend that much more quickly) and she pronounced herself as fit as the rest of them. The lady's guilt was matched by Pia's, who took the blame for their near-fatal misadventure. "Oh, my lady, how ashamed I am to have let my modesty cause your suffering!"

"Don't worry about me, my friend, as I am well now. Worry about the concern we have brought the others!" Pia moaned, "It is worse that no one, not even Lord Nicolo, chides us for our foolishness! I would much prefer a tongue-lashing than the cold silence from our leaders!"

So would I, thought Valentina, who had not missed Nicolo's tight-mouthed scorn as he had inquired after her health earlier. And D'Angelo's new lines of worry had made her feel even worse! "Yes, but the best we can do to atone is to try harder to bear future hardship without complaint, and hope we can be forgiven, Pia!"

The women had their chance to prove their endurance as the caravan moved on; quickening winds, as predicted, dispersed the killing brown fog till the sun was again visible. But though the torture of clinging dust was gone, a new torment now took its place: thirst.

Floria saw how her friends suffered, and came to them with a trick she had learned from Pierto. "Set a small stone, like these, in your mouth, and suck."

Valentina said with mild contempt. "How can there be water in a rock, Floria?" But both she and Pia accepted the bit of desert wisdom and sucked their pebbles while trying to think of anything except increasing thirst and miserable heat.

She thought of her strange experience in the desert, just before her rescue, and frowned at the tugging uneasiness of the confused recollection. There was something she should remember, something very important which . . .

"Oasis!"

No longer did the drivers have to prod their beasts, which smelled water sooner than their riders. Valentina's camel increased its gait with such suddenness that the girl was nearly thrown from her saddle.

"Look, ValentinaI can see it! Oh, isn't it beautiful?"

The well-watered oasis indeed loomed ahead, with its white walls and blessed greenery. Valentina offered a silent prayer that this was not a mirage; the whoops of drivers leading their mounts to the waterhole gave her the answer she craved.

Soon all were refreshed, with particular care being given to the cattle, and Nicolo and Maffeo debated over whether they should stay here to wait for another caravan, or travel on to Ormus.

Melisse whispered to the other women, ''There will be no danger on the trail to Ormus, friends, as the trail is well-marked. No danger of Karaumas raiding, as the Sultan of Ormus is said to be eager for trade and protects the road between here and him most carefully."

Floria, ever the maternal one, said worriedly, "But what of Marco? Should we not stay and let him rest?"

Maffeo came up to answer heavily, "He is his father's son, no doubt of that! The boy claims he is fit to go further!" If only Nicolo would praise the boy, he thought. But it was not in the other Polo's temperament to dispense compliments for efforts no greater than his own.

But Pia's frivolous questions about harem life and the like made Maffeo forgetful of the strain between his brother and himself. Soon the group were lightheartedly rejoicing over the happier adventure before them, though Melisse was quiet on the subject.

The slave girl, of them all, was the only one fully aware of what lay ahead. But she silently ate the luscious fruits available in the oasis, hopeful of restoring any lost beauty.

When Ormus was reached, the group was received most lavishly by the Sultan, though the Khan's chop was acknowledged with laconic respect. The women found their new surroundings more to their liking than desert quarters. Pia, especially, found the luxurious women's chambers delightful. "Oh, think, dear Valentina; a real harem, which I have only heard tell of before! Is it not beautiful?"

Valentina was not so enthusiastic about their quarters, since it was with the palace harem and, by custom, far from the rest of their party. "It is, though I cannot forget that I might have been incarcerated in similar lodgings, had I been sold at auction."

Melisse shushed her, knowing that those attending often spied on visitors for evil purposes. "Sh-h, my lady; never forget we are here by the Sultan's good grace."

"But he seemed quite happy with Nicolo's gifts to him. You saw the lavish return of presents to my betrothed."

"A formality which goes no further than sweet words and bows, mistress. Speak kindly of his hospitality at all times, and do not let any of these pagan customs bring alarm that will insult our host."

Valentina felt uneasiness at the warning and fell silent, admiring the arrangements which formed the female quarters.

An entire wing of the palace was given over to the housing of wives and concubines, as well as a large number of eunuchs and slaves. The rooms were lovely and spacious, opening off a vast hall lavished with carpets and low tables. A myriad of corridors led to private apartments and kitchens, where Pia rapidly learned a full staff was kept for preparing food to please any whim. Fountains and flowers abounded in every niche, pleasing the senses with their sound and smell.

Still Valentina found herself strangely troubled. She decided it was the sight of the castrated slaves, whose demeaning fawning repelled her even more than their disfigurement. "Melisse, I cannot think how one could be happy in such a place." Her whisper did not carry to the ears of the slave who led the way to their lodgings.

"Can't you? Look at your little friend? Have you ever seen one so enchanted?"

Valentina glanced at Pia, who was indeed entranced by the wonders that surrounded her. "She's only a child! None of this is real to her!"

Melisse privately reflected that Pia thought little real, except sweetmeats and luxury. But she only murmured, "I hope her childishness keeps her from noticing the ways of the harem . . ."

"These . . . these half-men, you mean? Pia only looks on them as oddities and knows nothing of their import, I warrant."

The slave smiled. "No, I meant the practices of pleasures which to many of your culture might seem degraded." She gave a delicate cough. "Any . . . diversion in harem life between eunuch and eunuch, female and female, female and eunuch is considered quite natural, my lady."

Valentina walked faster, not wishing to hear more.

The wonder of a night's comfort with real beds and delicious food eased Valentina's mind as well as her body. She soon indulged her curiosity about her surroundings and those about her, finding by mid-day that the warm climate in Ormus had a happy solution. The harem ladies were accustomed to bathing frequently in the garden pools of the palace, and the women from Venice, along with Melisse, soon joined them.

Valentina was returning ahead of the others when Casfari, a dark, plump slave assigned to watch them, intercepted her. Her smile was friendly, but Valentina found herself clutching her damp robe closer about her form, which she had noticed Casfari often admiring. "There is another pool, dear lady, where I bathe. Will you not come with me there?"

Valentina forgot her suspicions at hearing the slave speak in her own tongue. "You speak our language? But how . . . ?"

An odd look came over the dark face, before the girl answered smoothly, "There is . . . was . . . another Christian lady who spent many months among us. She taught me your words, beautiful one."

The phrase 'beautiful one' reminded Valentina of Melisse's warning, and she said coolly, trying not to offend, "I thank you for the offer to show me where your bathe, Casfari, but I have already bathed and have need of a rest now."

"Then I will come and oil your lovely skin, fair one. It is an art which relaxes beyond all other."

"No, I really appreciate your kindness, but I . . . I don't need any help . . ."

The plump face got darker and Casfari said coldly, "The Sultan's wives consider me the gentlest masseuse in the harem, fair one. Does my lady consider herself above the Sultan's chosen women?"

Valentina thought miserably, if she tells one of the wives, the Sultan will hear, and I will have caused another furorover a simple massage! "Very well, Casfari, if there is time. I . . . I promised Pia to play a game of chance with the numbered cubes one of your people taught us to use."

Casfari's white teeth flashed. "The little sweet-loving one whose mind keeps only pretty things in it? She has already learned many of our phrases, it is true, but I cannot think her a challenge to you in any sport. Come!" The slave waited for Valentina to precede her into her chamber; as the girl passed, she said softly, "We will go to the pool another day, lovely lady. But now . . . let Casfari bring sweetness and softness into every part of your tired form."

Valentina had to admit, once she got over the shock of stretching nude on a divan in front of another woman, that the girl's reputation had not been exaggerated. The hands soothed and stroked with oil and soft creams till Valentina felt she would surely drift into sleep.

"There; did I not tell you?" The dark eyes mocked her.

"You are a genius, Casfari; I feel as if there's not a bruise or a pain left in my body." She didn't protest when the hands gently eased her over on her back, but when the stroking at her belly began, she opened her eyes in renewed alarm. "I think I will rest now, Casfari."

The slave paid no attention, but continued massaging, murmuring soft, foreign words as she moved to more intimate parts of Valentina's body.

The girl forced herself to lie quietly under the gentle rhythm of the slave's hands, even when they finished oiling the red-gold crispness at her thighs and went lovingly to annoint her breasts and nipples.

"That will be all now. I am the Lady Valentina's slavewoman and attend to her personal ministrations." Valentina could have hugged Melisse, who stood in the door as though there were nothing out of the ordinary about seeing Valentina's naked body being most tenderly salved.

And Casfari, though she was disappointed, bowed slightly as she left Valentina's side. "And a love duty it must be, woman!" The dark eyes feasted for another minute on Valentina's nakedness, till Melisse covered it with a silk throw. "Such beauty of face and body I have never seen till now!" Melisse bowed back and stood between Casfari and her friend. "The Lady Valentina and I thank you for your compliments, slavewoman."

When they were alone and Melisse was sure the slave was not lurking nearby, Valentina gave her rescuer a warm hug. "I have never been so glad to see anybody in my life! Oh, Melisse, I was mortified!"

The slave gave her an approving look. "You learn quickly, my lady; to have insulted that one might have meant trouble. She is favoured by the chief eunuch, who wields great power in the harem." She handed Valentina her robe. "The slave will not likely try this trick again, as she respects my claim, being a slave herself." She added daringly, with a dimple Valentina had never seen, "No doubt she is sulking jealously somewhere because she thinks you and I are in each other's arms."

"Melisse!" Valentina's look of horror made Melisse turn serious again.

"As I told you earlier, this is the practice among these people. I beg of you, Lady Valentina, be careful while we are within these walls! Your beauty has not gone unnoticed."

"It is no greater than your own, Melisse."

"But I am a slave and designated for another."

"And I, too!"

Melisse looked at the other woman pityingly. Would the Venetians never learn that their laws had no meaning here? "But the Sultan would never defy the Khan. Lord Nicolo . . ." The girl shrugged, and Valentina knew what she meant. Before she became alarmed that the Sultan might take a fancy to her, Melisse said with wry humour,

"Don't worry, mistress; the Sultan favours young males and has no special caring for white females!" Just then, Pia and Floria came in, happy and pink from their bathing, and the girls soon had a lively game of chance going, with much drinking and sampling of the palace kitchen's delicacies in between.

Pia, just before she went to sleep that night, said to Valentina wistfully, "I wish that I could live in such a place forever!"

Her friend, thinking of Casfari and the distasteful side of much she had glimpsed of harem life, said nothing.

Floria brought an optimistic message from the men, who had remained apart from the ladies: many trade advantages had come from the Sultan's cordiality toward D'Angelo and Nicolo. "Then perhaps my sacrifice was worthwhile," Valentina muttered, half to herself.

"Sacrifice?" Melisse had kept still about the scene she'd witnessed between Valentina and Casfari.

"I mean, staying out of my betrothed's sight, while he conducts important business," Valentina explained, hastily improvising. "Floria, I count on you for honesty, always; do you rest easy here?"

Her friend hesitated. "I do not question where I am led, my lady, as I have little say in the matter. But, no, I have not felt safe here. Pia laughs at me, saying I am getting old and silly."

"Pia's laughter is more frequent than her good judgment! I, too, can hardly wait to leave. Even the desert was a more natural sort of evil! Here . . . well, here, I sense a lack of purpose, a love of hedonism, that repulses me."

"Be patient, my lady. We will leave in good time. And, meanwhile, let us enjoy the indulgences that are ours! Will you accompany me to the pool where Pia and Melisse already lounge in the sun?" "No. No, but leave me, Floria, as my spirit is unfit for company now. I shall stroll about, then come back here to quietly think myself back into good humour."

Floria was reluctant to leave her friend, but did so after insisting, "You are certain, Valentina, that you will not join us? Pia has ordered some lovely sweets to be served with thick tea."

Valentina laughed. "That Pia! How she loves these delicacies! No, have your pleasure, my Floria; I will see you later."

Though there were some four hundred-odd wives and slaves housed in the harem, Valentina's walk about the corridors and walled gardens was quiet. She was startled while sniffing at a lovely flower near the entrance to the pool Casfari had tried to entice her to, when that very slave appeared at her elbow.

"Casfari! You startled me!"

"As you should be, when you hear the news I have. I know the closeness you have to the little chirping one who came with you from your far land . . ."

"Pia? She bathes with my friends . . . what would you tell me about her?"

"Only that she slipped away half an hour ago to see the wonders of the pool I spoke of." The dark eyes danced. "It will be most enlightening for one so young, do you not agree?"

Valentina said sharply, "Pia would not leave Floria and Melisse's care."

"As you say, lovely lady. But she gave me these to hold when she removed her robes to bathe . . ." Casfari held out twin gold loops that she had never known Pia to part with, they being gifts from D'Angelo.

"I do not believe you, slavewoman! Stay here, while I see what Floria has to say of this!" Valentina whirled down the path to the pool where Melisse and Floria lounged in the company of one or two amiable concubines. "Where is Pia?" Her sharpness of tone made Floria sit up.

"Pia? She said she wished to explore, perhaps to join you in your walk. Shall I come to help you find her, Valentina?"

"No; there is no need, since Casfari says she knows her whereabouts." Valentina longed to request Floria's company. But the maid's lowly status could cause problems if Pia indeed had to be disentangled from some sort of unpleasantness. "Very well, Casfari," she said grimly, once they were again on the path to the other pool. "You will lead me there, but I go only to protect my little friend from unfair advantage of her childishness."

As they walked toward the end of the garden where the entrance to the other pool was, Valentina heard an earsplitting scream that froze her in her tracks. "My God! I have never heard such agony in a sound! Casfari, we must see what caused it! Could it have been human?"

The slave said easily, though she tried to urge Valentina forward with some nervousness, "A misbehaving slave, no doubt, who is being chastened by order of the Chief Eunuch."

"A mere beating could not bring forth such soul-tearing cries, Casfari! There, I hear another, weaker scream. It comes from the room at the end of the walk . . . see?"

Casfari's dark skin paled. "Oh, do not let him see us watching! He has great power in the harem and is sensitive to any criticism!"

Valentina glimpsed a eunuch with a crimson-tied pigtail coming from the room which was again quiet. "But what of the poor creature whose screams speak of awful hurt?" "And what of your little friend? Hurry, my lady, and be glad Tork, the Chief Eunuch, did not see our gawking."

Valentina felt helpless in this place which could not be influenced by foreigners like herself, and fell behind her companion. Engrossed in her thoughts, she did not see that Tork took a shorter path to Casfari's pool.

The slave hid a smile as she led Valentina into a secluded garden which held, not little Pia after all, but a view to astonish Valentina's senses.

There, at the pool's edges, she saw eunuchs engaging in all manner of depraved passion with one another or with concubines. Some had devices strapped to their loins which imitated their lost manhood. All figures lounged about the pool were fingering and tonguing in every lascivious way imaginable, in pairs or groups.

Valentina stood in shock at the scene; when she would have turned to run, her arms were held by Casfari and another slave who ran to help in her capture. "What, are you mad? I will not join in this depravity!" The two who held her were laughing, tugging at her garments and touching the parts of her thereby exposed. "Leave me along, I beg of you!"

Valentina's flailing and cries caught the attention of a large, fleshy female who lay back passively as another woman licked between her thighs. The female pushed her partner away unfeelingly and rose to approach the Venetian girl. "You are the foreign lady?"

"I am! Please instruct these slaves to take their hands from me." Valentina tried, in spite of near-nakedness, to appear majestic. "I did not choose to come here, Madame, though I take no offense at your own presence."

The woman spoke in rapid phrases to Casfari and the other slave, who left sulkily. ''You are as beautiful as they say, Venetian. Have you no interest in our . . . ah . . . activities here?"

"None!"

"A pity." Liquid eyes ran over Valentina's form, considering its voluptuousness in practiced appraisal. "You would add much, were you willing to join in our pleasures. But I, myself, can take or leave these pastimes and would prefer an hour of conversation with you to any other thing." She helped Valentina adjust her robe. "Will you come with me to my private apartment, since these sights obviously displease you? Incidentally," the woman spoke casually, though with dead seriousness, "I would not, if I were you, stare at the guardian eunuch who wears his hair tied in crimson. He is angered by unfriendliness, as the other Christian lady similar to you discovered all too painfully."

Valentina tore her gaze from the eunuch, who belaboured at the buttocks of another, rolling himself in a parody of lovesickness that sickened her. "Casfari spoke of the other Christian girl; I would hear more of her."

"Then follow me. Do not fear! I will not try to seduce you. I only make love with those who wish it as much as myself."

Then I am safe with you, Madame! Valentina said to herself as she followed her companion's ample form through winding corridors to the apartments used by the Sultan's legal wives. The girl sat on a low divan at her hostess' gesture and was silent while the other woman rang to order refreshments.

"You lack enough flesh, Venetian. But for that, you have beauty such as I have never seen. Such hair! Not only gold, but with reddish tints as well!" Valentina said modestly, "The colour is common in Venice."

"The slave girl, except for dark hair and different eye colour, looks much like yourself." The woman waved off the servant who brought a tray of sweet rolls and tea. "She will fare well, as I have, since she is meant for the Khan's harem. This life is freer than most, though I think you do not admire it." Valentina averted her eyes at the sight of the other stuffing so greedily with the rich cakes. No wonder her flesh billowed, with such an appetite!

I have only this acquaintance with harem life, Madame. I am afraid that being limited to these same rooms and gardens for a lifetime would grow tiresome. Besides, I am constrained by my upbringing to think one wife should be bound to one husband."

Her companion gave a derisive snort. "That you call a blessing? To have the nuisance of your husband all to yourself? Tedious! Tedious and dull, Lady. You would do better to seek more flexible lovemaking." The woman's eyes glittered. "Our husband once brought a concubine who loved our ways even less than yourself. Unfortunately, she did not have the good sense to stay quiet about her aversion."

Valentina felt the menace of this place, under all the luxury and laxity. "You are talking about the Christian woman who had our looks and ways?"

"YesMiriam, she called herself. I, by the way, am Korima."

Valentina's heart thumped at the chance she took, asking further questions about the poor Christian girl. "Korima, I must know, or have my dreams haunted nightly. The screams I heard while coming to the pool with Casfari; were they from this Miriam?" Korima shifted her eyes. "It is not wise to talk of the Chief Eunuch's business."

"Business! Can the hideous screams I heard from the room at the end of the garden be called such? And can one man be so cruel as to make others suffer for his depravity?"

Korima looked about her nervously. "Careful with what you say! Tork has full control here as slave master!"

"The Sultan knows that he tortures poor misfits at the slightest defiance?"

The woman put back a half-eaten delicacy. "The Sultan knows only what it pleases him to know. He has put Tork in command, and he knows that he has no trouble from these quartersnone that reaches his ears."

"Then tell him! Tell him what is being done to that poor innocent girl!"

"I cannot! To interfere would mean my own torture and death."

Valentina said firmly, "Then I will speak to the Sultan myself."

Korima's skin turned ghastly pale. "Do not, I beg of you! To save face, since he put Tork in charge, the Sultan would have to act upon your criticism and you, not the slave master, would be the loser!"

"Then what can we do, Korima? I cannot bear the thought of lolling about pools and eating sweets while the girl in that room dies in slow agony!"

Valentina's misery had its effect on the woman who was attracted to the beautiful Venetian. "There is only one way . . ."

"We can help her escape?" Valentina asked eagerly.

Korima's face showed pity. She said softly, "Miriam herself would not wish to escape, not after being in the torture room for two days, as she has." Valentina felt stricken, remembering Melisse's story about the slave who'd been tortured by another evil one. "The knife was used, in the way that only the eunuch knows to do so that bleeding is not fatal . . ."

"Cuts can heal, Korima!"

"By Allah, must I spell out everything? Where is your mercy, Christian? Would you have the girl live after being closed in a trunk with hungry rats for two days?"

Valentina sank back on the divan, nauseated. "No. No! Not even the eunuch could be so evil!"

Korima went on relentlessly, "The wounds attract and nourish the rodents . . ."

"No more, I beg of you. No more! You spoke of a planI see now you meant one for the miserable girl's quicker relief from agony?"

Korima nodded. "There is one who has access to the room, who gives the dying girl water, to stretch out her torment. I will give him a painless poison for her. Tork will think she lacked stamina, like many of your kind."

In spite of their wide divergence in morality, Valentina liked the woman across from her, and wished her no ill. "You will not be caused trouble by this?"

"No. The man who will be the dying girl's agent of death owes me a great favour." The eyes twinkled again. "But I will not tell you the details of it, since it would offend your delicate nature."

Valentina knew death would be mercifully welcome to the suffering captive. "You will let me know that it is done?"

Korima nodded. "At the feast tonight which the Sultan plans in honour of his guests. My veil will be dark purple and gold trimmed; watch my eyes, which I will close three times slowly to indicate the girl has gone to join the God you people love." Valentina was led back to her quarters by a slave. It was difficult for her to join in the gay chatter of her friends, who were thrilled by the idea of the evening's fête. Pia tried to cheer her friend, who sat grave and untalkative.

"Valentina, how can you be gloomy in such a place? We are treated with great admiration and hospitality at every turn. Why, when Melisse and I sang together todayquite beautifully, if I do say soall those listening praised us."

"And greedy Pia demanded a platter of honey-stuffed figs as reward!" Floria said, shaking her head.

"Yes, and I saved one for you, Valentina, so I am not such a pig after all!" The girl triumphantly brought out a sticky fig and held it out to her friend. "Here! Isn't it wonderful how the palace is full of delightful surprises?"

Valentina shook her head to the offering. "Delightful? I remember once, in the woods near my parents' villa, I found a gloriously-hued mushroom. A moment after I rushed to pick it, I threw it away, since the bottom was rotten, with maggots crawling throughout."

Pia's lips stopped at the tip of the rejected honey fig and Floria's and Melissa's faces showed such dismay at Valentina's mood that the girl felt guilty. She said with forced gaiety, "Now tell me what we should wear to this gala tonight. I have heard the Sultan spares nothing in his entertainments!"

But the lighthearted tone of the gathering had been shattered and each female sought her couch to rest for the night's festivities.

Pia thanked Valentina so solemnly for finding the gold loops she'd thought lost that the older girl could not bring herself to disclose how she'd come to have them.

While Valentina dressed in the finest gown she had brought with her, Nicolo was learning that his last hope for sailing to the Indias could not be accomplished. His disappointment in the primitive naval offering of the region was keen. The sea junks of Ormus were not the well-timbered European trade vessels familiar to him, but, rather, poorly fashioned rafts of a sort. That fact, coupled with the hint of unseasonal storms, made it certain that travel would be continued by caravan.

Marco was secretly glad, since he found the sea tedious and loved exploration. He kept quiet about it, however, since his continued relapse of disordered bowels from flux still plagued him.

Through their dealings with the Sultan, while Nicolo and Maffeo busied themselves with trading interests, D'Angelo observed a disturbing note: the Ormus despot seemed deeply taken with Marco's youthful curiosity. When D'Angelo found himself alone with Nicolo before the Sultan's fête, he brought the matter up gingerly.

Nicolo listened with a stiff expression, not liking the subject. But he knew D'Angelo did not exaggerate. "I had not noticed this, but then I have been away, busy with other matters, noble. I have given little thought to the matter of this Sultan's reputed predelictions. But, yes, it makes sense: the festivities, to play to our European love of wealth and power andit must be saidour known greed. He has in mind softening us in a way that would not bring down vengeance from my friend, the Khan, while he woos my son. Yes, by God, I think this is the reason for this generous fête! I had wondered, since we are not spectacular in number or riches . . ." Nicolo called in Maffeo. "Brother, we must be careful and must watch carefully, as this Sultan could prove more dangerous than friendly."

Excitement grew as the day lengthened. Wives and concubines vied for choice anterooms from which to spy on the grand reception chamber. News of their envy reached the foreign women, who would be among the honoured guests, as they were not bound by native custom.

Pia translated unbelievingly, "Can you believe this? The sight of our naked faces in the presence of the Sultan will be the main event!"

Pageantry was not spared. First came a parade of foot soldiers and the camel cavalry, all robed in white with richly embroidered trappings. Next came the monarch's private elephants, ponderous and dignified. Last came the nobles of Ormus, all with as many attendants as their station allowed, splendidly robed in jewelled finery. Behind them followed the Sultan's slaves, to distribute food to the multitudes whose outcries provided cacophonous background for the ceremony.

The Sultan and his guests were safe from the uninvited crowds, since they were comfortably seated in a palace balcony. While the panorama unfolded below, Valentina and her friends feasted on delicacies of food and drink, to the tune of pleasant music. The heat of the scorching sun was allayed by breezes created by slaves with waving fans, and by canopies.

Even Pia was eventually sated with the pomp of this show. All were vastly relieved to be moved inside the palace for the private festivities.

Nicolo noted that Marco was placed in a favoured position next to the Sultan. Nor did he fail to notice how the despot's eyes moved softly over Marco's boyish form.

For him, enjoyment had ended with the realization that action must be taken now or never. He leaned over to Maffeo. "The din is great now, my brother, and your absence will not be noticed. Go quickly to our drivers and beasts, and get them ready for a hasty departure this very night."

"Nicolo, the boy will not give in to him!"

"That I knowand how do you think the Sultan will react? He is of a childish nature; he has given Marco every chance to respond to his attentions. After tonight, there will be no more patience. And, with my son's refusal, none of us can expect to evade death or slavery."

"The Sultan's guard is more vigilant than in Baghdad, Nicolo!"

"Your face is stricken, Maffeo. Pretend to cough so that none will think us discussing more serious things than our satisfaction with this orgy!" Maffeo's recovery was rapid and Nicolo said softly and smilingly, as though indeed he complimented the Sultan's entertainments, "I will school Marco briefly so that we will have more time. But we leave by this night's moon. Perhaps, with hard travelling, we can overtake the Turkish caravan which left for Ghanistan only several days ago. Leave. Now."

After Maffeo's unnoted leavetaking, Nicolo astounded Valentina by turning to her with loud laughter as if she had just said something extremely witty.

In fact, she had been searching the walls above them for a glimpse of Korima at one of the tiny windows. But Nicolo's hand gripping her arm tightly brought her attention to his odd behaviour. "Do not show distress, whatever I say, Valentina. Go with Pia and Melisse, as soon as you can, to your quarters. Gather your jewels and your finery and have Floria bind them in inconspicuous bags, then get out of the palace as quietly as you can. Disguise yourselves. Meet us at the easterly gate called 'Crossway of Pearls,' close to hour's call. Smile now, Valentina, as if I have made some foolery. And the heaviness pressing against you is a bag of gold pieces. Briberyliesanything that will get you to the gate will be done with my blessing, if you value your life!"

Valentina's smile wavered. "The danger is intenseI know this from what you instruct me. But why? The Sultan loves us all, it seems!"

Nicolo said grimly, "Some of us too much. No more questions, brave lady. Leave! The Gate on the Eastern side, remember!"

Valentina's gaze fell upon the purple and gold veil she had searched for all evening and forgot everything but the slow closings of purple-lidded eyes three times. She closed her own eyes and breathed a little prayer for the soul of the unknown Miriam. "Thank God, it is over."

Nicolo's smile stretched, belying his impatience. "It is not, until you do as I say. Though the harem is closely guarded and I am told the guardian eunuch is famous for cruelties to those escaping, your natural wit will serve youthat, and the privileges that you four have that other females do not."

"I will act as haughty as I dare."

"But don't overdo it, Valentina! I know you. Be careful."

Valentina's smile was natural, though it did not suit her question. "What of the Sultan's armies, Nicolo? Will they not pursue us?"

"Most of his guards are here, imbibing freely. If we use our advantage we will be gone a day and night before they come after us. And they will not come far. Pierto tells me of jealous boundary lords who nip at the edges of Ormus, waiting for unguarded booty."

"We could not wait for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow the Sultan, who is pleased with us tonight, may give orders for our execution. Now go, and watch that your face does not reflect too much."

None questioned that the Venetian women were due to be excused, and the seats between them and their quarters were deserted as Nicolo had hoped. But with their speedy packing finished and several passages successfully traversed to one last portal, their luck came to an end.

The eunuchs stood guard, unmoving, and would not heed Valentina's authority, translated by Pia.

Valentina turned at the sound of a rich chuckle behind her.

It was Korima, whose dark eyes did not miss the unusual drabness of the foreign females' trappings and the bags in tow. "What, have you no liking for our festivities, Christians?"

"Korima, if there is any trace of humanity in you, which we both know there is, please direct these guards to open the gates!"

"No females can move the guard eunuchs in that fashion, Venetian. I could have spared you this frustration, when first I read the faces of you and your lord through my peephole and knew you planned escape."

"Korima, in the name of all that is sacred between humans, whatever their differences, help us to pass through here!"

The woman's face was thoughtful. "It pleases me oddly to think of outwitting my husband, who has too many times put my prestige beneath others . . . Yes, I will help you."

Floria said in a low voice, "Valentina, we cannot trust her! Come, let us try some other place."

"We must trust her, Floria; there is no other way."

"Give her the bag of gold, mistress!" Melisse hissed practically.

"Gold will not buy this woman's aid. Her superior intelligence is our link to hope.'' Valentina turned back to Korima. "You will help us?"

Korima nodded. "For a small price, which you will learn when you come where I lead you." She spoke to the guards who relaxed, grinning, and motioned the women to follow her through various corridors. They stopped before a well-hidden door whose cobwebbed disguise spoke of disuse, along with its creaking. Inside, the woman kicked away trash to reveal a trap. With Valentina's help, this was removed and all looked down into a mold-lined pit.

"There is no bottom to it!" cried Pia. "We will fall to our doom!"

Valentina only said softly, "Quiet, Pia. This leads outward, lady?"

"There are toeholds carved out, and though this appears like a well, there is no water. A soft drop at the end will put you beyond the palace wall. But be careful, as the walls are slippery and must be grasped firmly!"

"And your price, my ladyfor your compassion to all of us?"

Korima smiled. "That will be welcome, though I hope never to have need of it, being clever enough to know I am better placed here than you four who must brave the outside!" Her smile broadened. "My request may seem odd, but you remember my curiosity and how much you Venetians have caught my interest. I would look upon all of you without clothing, since I have never loved a woman of your complexion."

Pia and Melisse looked startled, but joined their companions in silently removing their clothing, till four goddesses of astonishing beauty stood motionless before Korima's intense regard.

The woman nodded. "As I thought: the European whiteness and meagerness of flesh is not so appealing as the dark fullness of our women. Ah, well, Christians; go now before I change my mind about helping you. Strap your bags to your back and keep your pale faces covered. The streets will be safe, due to the celebrating, but I advise that you keep your tongues quietand may whatever god brought you here be with you till you are far away."

"The gate which is called 'Crossways of Pearls'; will it be near?"

Korima shook her head. "I have never been there. Find it on your own; I have helped you enough."

"That you have, and we thank you for it, gracious lady!"

Valentina compulsively gave the Sultan's wife a warm hug and kiss which seemed to displease the woman, who hissed hoarsely, "None of that this late, my beauty! Go now, or stay forever!"

The descent into the well was frightening, but at last they were aground, only to hear the bells sounding the closing of the city gates. "The gold pieces! We will bribe the gate keeper who cannot care to keep inside much a motley group of females!"

As this was accomplished and the portal opened to let out the refugees, Pia complained, "Not a single pearl on the edifice, Valentina! I had expected the gate to be festooned with jewels!"

Her friend laughed. "Pia, Pia! I myself would be glad to find this barrier covered with slime and vipers if it opened to our freedom and closed on the horror behind us."

Pia looked wistfully toward the city they'd just fled. "I did not think it horrible, Valentina; in fact, I would love . . ."

"Stop dawdling, little one! It is almost time to meet the others." But the wait in the open plains, beyond the wall, seemed interminable, till at last, with the last streak of sun in the sky fading, Maffeo found them.

As soon as they were all together, the small caravan moved as rapidly as it could to put more distance between them and Ormus.

How Valentina longed to join D'Angelo where he rode with the other women! She could hear her guardian sharing his own adventures and hearing theirs. But Nicolo had brought her mount up beside his in a rare show of approval. She dared not insult him by riding with her other friends, though D'Angelo called to her.

She shook her head at his enticement and gave her attention to her betrothed, who seemed unusually pleased with her. Floria saw the look on D'Angelo's face on being spurned by his ward, and wondered to herself how this triangle would end.

"My lord, I exult at your own escape from the palace. How were you able to leave without the Sultan's notice and pursuit by his army?"

Nicolo smiled at her. "I might ask you the same, Valentina. You have pleased me." It was the highest compliment he could give; he cleared his throat in embarrassment. "As for us, Marco's sleeping potion was slipped into the Sultan's goblet and the monarch preceded us all to his chambers." He chuckled. "He will drowse through tonight and half the day tomorrow . . . and we will be beyond his borders by that time!''

Valentina turned in her saddle. "You are sly indeed, Nicolo. I see that we did not strike out directly eastward from the Gate of Pearls as I thought we would."

"Clever of you! We go northeast, to throw off any spies. You would not like to be returned to the Sultan's harem would you?"

Valentina shuddered. "I would choose death over such a fate! Tell me, my lord. I think of Melisse and of her being meant for the Khan's harem . . ."

Nicolo shot her a startled glance. "Foolish girl! The Great Khan's court is not riddled with rottenness as the palace behind us. Do not compare power-mad sultans with the magnificence of the Khan, for there is no parallel!"

Valentina thought uneasily, as she had in the garden at Venice when Nicolo first wooed her, He sounds as though he's talking about a deity. "I only think of Melisse, my lord, and hope that she can be happy."

"Happy?" Nicolo seemed sincerely puzzled. "Why should a noblewoman concern herself with the happiness of a slave girl?"

"I . . . I have grown fond of the girl, Nicolothat is all."

The man's face closed. "Your heart grows crowded, Valentina! I strongly advise you to leave room for devotion to our Great Khan, however!" He rode ahead to consult with Maffeo about their direction and Valentina told his retreating back fiercely, though silently, It seems you have enough love for the Mongol for both of us, Nicolo!

She remembered tardily that she had meant to ask what had prompted him to implement this sudden leavetaking of the Sultan's palace. Oh, well; Floria would know! She fell back to ride with the other women and soon shared their knowledge about Marco's near fate.

The full horrors of the place they'd left behind made them all ride in silence for a few miles. But the heaviness was finally broken by a deep sigh from Pia. "I wonder if they will have those delicious honey figs in Cathay?" Everybody laughed. But even as she teased Pia with the others, Valentina thought enviously, How wonderful, to remember nothing of a place as evil as Ormusexcept its sweet figs!

Chapter Nine

Firewalkers

The travellers joined with the Turkistan caravan two days out of Ormus. With the nearness of the Khan's borders approaching, they found their way made easier. And, as they passed into the safety of the Tangut Province, it became evident that the Khan's chop was synonymous with royal decree.

Even more evident was a new awareness in Valentina of her feelings for the man she was committed to marry in Cathay. A subtle change in Nicolo's attitude toward his betrothed was responsible for her growing uneasiness. She was glad when Nicolo received a directive from his Khan. The message called for him to investigate a nearby chieftain's discontent with Khan rule.

As soon as the leader was gone, Valentina sought D'Angelo's company. "My lord guardian, I would like to speak with you about a matter that troubles me increasingly. D'Angelo smiled and Valentina's heart skipped a beat. Had he always been so handsome? "I had thought you were avoiding me, Valentina!"

"In a way I was, D'Angelo. Nicolo has been so odd in his manner toward me since we have passed into the Khan's region . . ."

"Odd? I would say 'arrogant' is more like it! The man acts here as if he were more the king than Kublai Khan!"

"Let me finish, D'Angelo. I have not been easy since Ormus and must hear your opinion before I bring Nicolo's wrath down on myself or all of us by some mistake."

D'Angelo said more softly, "I, too, have been thinking of the man's increase in power since leaving the Sultan. But go on, Valentina. Tell me about Nicolo's treatment of you these past few days."

Valentina did so. "He has been cold, almost contemptuous toward me, D'Angelo. I have caught his eyes on me unawares, especially when I ride beside Melisse! He looks from one of us to the other, almost as though measuring or calculating."

D'Angelo frowned. "I, too, catch myself staring at the two of you, since one's spectacular looks is doubled by the other."

"D'Angelo, it is not admiration in his eyes! It's something else!" Valentina gave an exasperated sigh. "Oh, I cannot put words to it! I only wish . . ." she stopped, her face getting wistful.

D'Angelo's eyes were steady on her face. "Only wish what, Valentina?"

She cried, "I wish I had never been so foolish as to be captivated by him!"

D'Angelo's heart was hammering wildly now. Was it possible she had finally realized what kind of man Nicolo was beneath the strong exterior?

"I do not love him, D'Angelo. I do not love him and I will not marry him."

Were his ears tricking him? Had his passion for her influenced his hearing? "What . . . did you say, Valentina?"

It came more forcibly this time. "I will not marry him, Khan or no Khan! He cares nothing for me, except as a sort of possession, much as he cares for Melisse, and I am not sure why he chose to bring me here to be his wifebut I am sure I will not be that wife." Her eyes softened as they turned to his own. "There is . . . another, deeper reason I will not marry him, D'Angelo . . ."

D'Angelo held his breath. Was it possible she would say the words at last: the words he had longed to hear since the first night she lay in his arms?

"It is you I love, D'Angelo."

He let his breath out slowly so the dream would not vanish. "If you only knew how much I have wanted to hear you say that, Valentina! But there is more than one part to love, my lovely one: there is . . . trust." He kept his eyes on her face, knowing she thought of Pia as he did now. "I did not have yours at the beginning, Valentina, and more than anything I have wanted your trust." How the lovely eyes begged him to explain about Pia! But he would not . . . could not, since then he would never know if she could ever really trust him again.

Valentina lowered her gaze. If only he would tell her what was between him and Pia! "It will come with time, D'Angelo. But now I will repeat without shame that you have my heart." Her eyes kindled at the open desire in his face and she added softly, "and my body, darling, which longs for a warmer sealing of our troth."

He felt a sudden urge to take her in his arms and escape back to Venice. But Nicolo's vengeance would be vicious, he knew. Though D'Angelo would welcome a confrontation with Nicolo, he did not dare such openness. All those he loved would suffer. "I, too, yearn for our embrace, but we must go softly, Valentina. Nicolo is too vain . . . too possessive! If he were to suspect our alliance, or that you love me instead of him, he would respond most bitterly."

Valentina's face fell. How much she wanted to be in her lover's arms, to tell him of new, wonderful thoughts! "You are right, D'Angelo. My . . . my boldness no doubt shocks you."

"Shocks me? My darling, respect for you grows more each moment I'm with you!" He smiled at her. "I had not intended that you will be kept apart from me, my love, only that we must be careful how we go about it!"

They smiled at each other and at thought of the night ahead when they would lie in each other's arms.

A sudden new thought darkened D'Angelo's gaze. "When Nicolo returns, we will not confront him, Valentina. But I cannot bear to think of his touching you . . ."

"He will not, D'Angelo. Even . . . even in Baghdad, I could hardly bear his hand on me."

D'Angelo scowled. "He made love to you, ill though you had been? I'll kill the lying bastard!"

Valentina said hastily, "Only a . . . a kiss or two, D'Angelo, though even such modest lovemaking repelled me!" D'Angelo would never, never learn of the garden tryst in Venice!

For the first time, Valentina was glad when Pia came up to interrupt her talk with D'Angelo. Her relief kept her from feeling waspish about how patiently D'Angelo always listened and acted with Pia.

Valentina's excitement over the promised reunion with her lover was dampened by distress at finding Floria was to share her tent. "Dear friend, I urge you to seek another placeperhaps with Melisse. Since Ormus, I have been noisy and restless with horrid nightmares each night!"

"Then I will be here to comfort you! It must be frightening for you to awake alone with evil dreams."

Was that a twitch at Floria's lips? The maid knew her too well! "I know no other way to dissemble, dear Floria, and simply ask that you sleep elsewhere tonight."

Floria straightened from her task of gathering clothes to wash in the nearby ice-cold river. Her clear eyes had gladness in them as they met Valentina's. "It is Lord D'Angelo you love, not Lord Nicolo, isn't it?"

Valentina gave a deep sigh. "It is, though I have long been blinded to the faults of the one and the virtues of the other."

"Will your lover be coming here to quiet your . . . er, nightmares?"

Valentina blushed. "Don't tease, Floria!"

Floria put her bundle of garments down and surveyed her friend with thoughtfulness. "Tease? I am quite serious now in asking if you need my experienced counsel in . . . er, matters that may need explaining before the night is out."

Valentina picked up the discarded bundle and put it firmly back in Floria's arms. "I require no lessons in the matters of love, dear friend! If this shocks you, I'm sorry."

"Shock me? Shock one who has been topped regularly by men since the age of twelve?" Her face took on new anxiousness. "But if Nicolo should learn of what is between you and his rival . . !" "He will learn that I will not marry him, but the disclosure will be at a time of our choosing."

"Be careful, love. The man is possessive and most devious."

"Which, in part, explains my distaste for marrying him."

The two friends exchanged affectionate hugs and Floria was gone, with a conspiratorial wink.

Time passed in excruciating slowness for both lovers, but at last D'Angelo stood inside Valentina's tent. How his eyes devoured the sight of her, this golden vessel of secret fires! He would fight a thousand of the Khan's horsemen for her! He could hardly speak for emotion. "Say I am not dreaming, Valentina. Say that you come willingly at last into my arms!"

"More than willingly, dear D'Angelo!" Her slender arms stretched, moist lips parted enticingly. "They have been thus since I vowed myself no longer bound to Nicolo! You are so slow, beloved! My body shivers and longs for the warmth of yours!"

The bold invitation did not have to be repeated. Within the moment, the lovers were in each other's arms, their passion enhanced by a new tenderness. "Can it be that I can kiss these lips . . . these breasts . . . this soft belly . . . without fear that you will storm at me the moment I give you back your breath?"

Valentina whispered, "Yes, my darlingthough I implore you to have mercy on my passion, which cannot be satisfied by mere kisses . . ."

With a groan, D'Angelo's lips left her breasts to crush soft lips and guided his manhood to where her thighs moved eagerly apart.

There was no shame for Valentina this time when her moment of rapture came with D'Angelo. She wanted to stay in her lover's arms forever, to feel his strong arms guarding her from the strange world that seemed to be held at bay on the periphery of his loving embrace.

Amusement edged D'Angelo's words. "You can sleep after we are man and wife, my darling. Right now I have no intention of allowing it." He would have roused to her to more lovemaking, but Valentina was differently inclined.

"I would talk instead of make love, D'Angelo. I am content with a soft kiss, now and then, till dawn."

D'Angelo chuckled. "Dawn? I will slip back to my tent long before then, shameless hussy. Or would you have Pia bring us our breakfast in bed?"

Valentina stiffened in his arms. But, no, she would not forbear this time from asking about the matter that had troubled her for so long! She put slender arms around her lover's neck and smiled into his eyes. "Will our little Pia live with us after we are returned to Venice and in our own villa?"

A shadow passed over the lean features above her. "That will be Pia's decision, not mine, Valentina."

"Nor mineis that what you imply?" Valentina rolled away from the man so that he would not see the tears in her eyes. Was Pia to be between them for eternity? She burst out, "D'Angelo, for God's sake, I must know at last: what tie to little Pia binds you, that you always put her above us all?"

D'Angelo's hand reached out to the shaking back, then dropped hopelessly. "I . . . I cannot tell you, Valentinanot yet."

The girl turned to him, her beautiful eyes full of pain. "Not yet? Not yet, D'Angelo? Then when? On our wedding night while Pia stands outside our bedchamber sighing for love for you?" D'Angelo shook his head heavily. ''Before then, my love. Valentina?" He stroked her back. "Do not turn from me like this!"

The voice came muffled. "It is late and I'm tired. And, as you pointed out, we must not be discovered. Good night, D'Angelo."

The man sighed, then kissed the stiff shoulder before rising to leave. "Valentina . . ."

"Yes, D'Angelo?"

"Before I go, will you do one thing . . ."

Silence.

"Will you call me by my given name?"

"Ghia. Ghia. It doesn't sound right, my lord."

"Nor does 'my lord' when speaking to the man who will be your husband, darling!"

"Husband only if I am released from Lord Polo's troth." And from my torment over what Pia means to you!

"Which you will be!" If I have to kidnap you out from under the noses of Nicolo and the Khan! "Sweet dreams, my sweet Valentina."

It was not long after that Valentina heard hooves of several horses and aroused enough to realize that Nicolo had returned.

"Where's Floria? I have not seen her all morning, Melisse." Indeed, Valentina had not seen Pierto or Marco either since rising, and several of the drivers appeared to be missing as well.

Melisse looked up from her task of pomading her body inch by inch (time for her presentation to the Khan was not far away; she must be perfect!). "Oh, did not Lord Nicolo tell you? She was sent with Pierto and a small force to await us in Kamul." "Lord Nicolo scarcely tells me anything, Melisse; surely you've noticed that. D'Angelo!" Valentina blushed at the memory of using his other name intimately the night before as the nobleman approached. "What is this about Floria being sent with an early dispatch to Kamul?"

"Nicolo thought it wise to have one of your friend's levelheadedness along. I think he knows with the rest of us that Pierto, when out of his sight, is sly and lazy. Floria keeps the man in line."

Valentina looked about at the near-deserted camp. Since the other caravan had parted from them, and now the group dispatched to Kamul, there were few of them left.

D'Angelo read her thoughts. "Don't look so worried, little one! We are in the provinces under the Kublai Khan's rule and have his protection. Why, he probably already knows our exact location and activities!"

The thought of all-knowing eyes spying everywhere as they moved toward Cathay made Valentina shiver. The girl suddenly saw herself as a tiny insect moving in a silken web toward a great, silent spider of immense patience who waited, unmoving, for her to come close enough to . . . "What, my lord Nicolo? I did not hear you come up." Valentina bowed jerkily as her betrothed interrupted her unpleasant fantasy.

"I could have been the great Tartar bear Nayan come to carry you away to the wilds of Tenduk, my lady, for all your attentiveness." But Nicolo was in an affable mood and the others soon learned why. "I have learned of that one's contempt for Khan rulings and have already seen to it that these rumblings reach the ears of the Great One."

D'Angelo's eyes narrowed. Then the scouting party to Kamul had gone for more reason than to take care of warehousing cargoes, as Nicolo had told him? He took advantage of Nicolo's expansiveness to learn more. "No doubt an emissary from your Khan will contact Pierto on your behalf, Nicolo. Do we wait for this word, or will we move forward to join the others?"

Nicolo's eyes gleamed. "We wait. If these Tartars are to be challenged, I will be ready to lead the emperor's men." He reached out, playfully tugging a lock of Valentina's hair from its hood. "And you, lovely virgin, will be the possession of a great and famous warrior!"

Valentina's heart froze. "Possessionor wife, my lord?"

Nicolo's eyes went to Melisse whose presence was, as always, unassuming, and barked, "Bring me wine, girl! D'Angelo and I . . . and you, too, my Valentina . . . would celebrate!"

As she lifted her goblet daintily to Nicolo's, Valentina carefully kept her eyes from watching D'Angelo's knuckles whiten on the goblet he held.

With cold certainty the girl realized that the most dangerous time of their journey still lay ahead, the moment when Nicolo was told that Valentina wanted her freedom from him!

Valentina's lips shook against the rim of her cup. If Nicolo should learn of her betrayal . . . ! If he had come into her tent last night and found D'Angelo . . . !

As though he read her thoughts, D'Angelo's eyes met hers. Deliberately, coolly, he raised his cup to her ever so slightly and Valentina realized with relief that the confrontation she dreaded would not be here and now. She read his mind perfectly: Don't be afraid, my darling; he will not have youand we will live to tell our children about these adventures! Aloud, D'Angelo said pleasantly to Nicolo, "Tell me about this Nayan, Nicolo; is he truly half-man, half-bear as Maffeo claims?" And while Nicolo recalled the legendary Tartar chief's history, Valentina let her thoughts roam over other matters. The sight of Pia strolling about caught her interest. Though Nicolo frowned at her, she murmured some excuse and scurried to talk with her little friend, whose behaviour alternately puzzled and amused her.

"Pia! We have hardly had a moment's conversation since Ormus. Shall we walk together?"

Pia's face showed gladness at Valentina's friendliness. The simple girl had tried to hide her pain at her older friend's strangeness with her at times. She felt her cheeks flush, knowing that the cause was her own pledged, dark secret. "If you will not try to cajole from me what you failed to learn from our guardian."

Valentina stopped dead still. "He told you about that?"

Pia's dimple showed and Valentina fought the urge to shake her. "Our wonderful guardian tells me almost everything, Valentina! You know how specially he treats me."

Poor Pia could not know how every word ground the barb in Valentina's heart more deeply! Valentina threw away her pride and cried, "How can I help but know? Pia, if you love me, you must tell me what is between you and my guardian!"

The pretty face paled. "Oh, I cannot . . . I cannot, my love! I took an oath that none, not even you, would be told my secret until the day I turn sixteen!"

Valentina said wearily, "And you are bound, as is my guardian, to this stupid vow?"

"It is not stupid, Valentina!" Pia stared back angrily, but could not be angry for long. "Oh, my love, let us not quarrel! Next to D'Angelo, I love you best, dear Valentina." She did not notice how her friend turned her face away at that, but went on to what was for her a more serious matter. "I had wished to talk with you, too, Valentina. Since Ormus, my heart has been burdened with the heaviness of a decision that I must make."

Valentina turned back to her friend, surprised. Pia was never heavyhearted, and happily let others make all her decisions for her. "Then lighten it by telling me, little one."

"You will not speak of it to anyone? Not even D'Angelo?"

"Not even D'Angelo!" Valentina agreed lightly, thinking her friend to worrying over some triviality.

But it was not a trivial matter which Pia broached.

"I have thought and thought about it since we visited the harem. Valentina," the triangular face turned earnestly toward Valentina's, "I do not want to go back to Venice. If the Khan's palace is as Melisse tells me, I want to stay there forever."

"Pia, you cannot! Stay in Cathaynot go back to Venice!" Valentina stared in disbelief as Pia nodded gravely.

"Will the Khan let me stay, do you think? If I sing each day and learn the dances he likes? Mongols appreciate, Melisse says, the arts as no other people doI could learn drawing and painting . . ."

Valentina took her friend by the shoulders. "Pia, you must tell no one this, but since you have this fantasy of staying in Cathay, I have to tell you my secret. I do not plan to marry Nicolo, so I will be returning to Venice."

Surprisingly, Pia said calmly, "I knew that."

"D'Angelo told you that, too!"

"No need; I saw it in your face, after we left Ormus." Pia hugged her friend. "I cannot explain, Valentina, except to tell you that I think I am like a songbird who wants a safe, beautiful garden in which to sing day and night. The world is hard to one of little intellect like myselfespecially a place like Venice!"

Valentina wondered if her hearing had gone topsy-turvy; Pia was saying that it was Venice that was cruel, not the land of the Sultans and paganism. "You . . . you think Venice will be a cruel place for you?"

Pia nodded. "Even the Fornaldos love their sharp gossip about scandals. When I go back . . ." The soft face took on firm determination. "But I'm not going back, and that's that. You will help me, Valentina?"

"I . . . I don't know, Pia. We'll have to wait and see . . ."

Pia looked off toward the east, her face dream-clouded. "I'll never leave . . . never!"

Valentina kept Pia's astonishing revelation to herself for the next few days as they waited for word from Kamul. But she forgot all about it in the excitement of a call from the driver who had been posted as lookout:

"Riders coming this way!"

Valentina ran out with the others to meet Pierto and a strangely flushed, exhausted Floria. Nicolo's henchman could hardly wait for the words tumbling out to his master. "Such an honour for you, master! The Great Khan has sent word that it will be you, sire, who goes against the mogul who plots against him!"

"Think of it, Maffeo!" Nicolo's eyes glowed with triumph. "Think of what this means!" Maffeo put his hand on Nicolo's shoulder in gladness. The Polos'esteem would be henceforth assured, after such a commission.

Valentina cried out, unable to bear it any longer, "Think first of poor Floria, who can hardly sit upright!" Even as she spoke, the maid slid to the ground in a heap and D'Angelo gathered her up in his arms. Valentina left Melisse and Pia to tend to the fainting girl, telling them grimly, "I warrant Pierto can tell the tale of how our poor friend came to this sad condition! Take care of her while I go to hear what that ruffian has to say to his master about this!" Valentina walked back with D'Angelo to hear what Pierto was saying in his oily voice.

" . . . So, of course, after the warehousing was seen to and our lodgings seen to in Kamul, there was little else to occupy us . . ."

Nicolo said sternly, "Pierto, I will learn from Marco later whether your excuses for lack of industry hold, but now I would learn what other news makes your tongue stumble in excitement. What happened that Floria now lies inside unconscious?

Pierto stuttered out his bizarre news which should, D'Angelo thought grimly, have come before the news of the Khan's commission to Nicolo. "They took him . . . they took the man right off her body. He was raping her, if you'll forgive my plain speaking, my lady."

Valentina stared at Pierto. "Someone attacked Floria, is that what you're saying? And then someone else kidnapped the attacker?" She turned to D'Angelo, "My lord, can we not force the man to make more sense?"

Nicolo interrupted D'Angelo's sharp address to Pierto. "He answers to me, noble. All right, Pierto, what is all this babble about a fellow of red beard and great muscles who was taken from the inn . . ."

Pierto more calmly related how he had seen with his own eyes a redbearded giant of a man taken from atop the maid. "And the girl seemed more unhappy about his kidnapping than his raping her, if you know what I mean, sire."

Nicolo smiled tightly. "I am aware of the maid's love for such tusselling, Pierto. But I still don't know who or what you're talking about!"

"Forgive me, master, for knowing little more than you do about this red-bearded stranger who came, as it were, from nowhere! But Floria admits that she knew him, that he was one and the same as the drivers called 'Man-of-no-face-and-no-name'."

Nicolo darted a look at D'Angelo. "The disguise was effective, obviously, since all of us are caught unawares by this! He was hired by you, Lord D'Angelo?"

D'Angelo stared back, some dark suspicion stirring at the mention of fiery beard and hair. "I hired no such man, Nicolo!"

So each had thought the man employed by the other! Pierto remembered how he himself had taken the driver's position for granted. "Not as he looks now, my lords! Floria finally admitted to discovering him undisguised. He threatened her with death if she gave him away."

D'Angelo cursed silently, his mind going back to the day he'd saved Valentina from . . .

Volcar!

"She saw him bathing and his pale skin and hair revealed his identity."

Floria, who'd revived from her exhaustion, told the same story more weakly to Pia and Melisse. ". . . And I knew him at once! Volcar, the terrible Volcar who brought my mistress so much unhappiness!"

"Why did you not tell Pierto or, better, Marco?"

"One a rogue and the other a youth? I could not; I pretended to fall under his charms as before till I might tell D'Angelo that his old enemy still lusted after our Valentina . . ." Floria closed her eyes and the others tiptoed out, thinking her asleep.

But the girl was thinking of the scene between her and Volcar when she discovered his identity. She had found the innkeeper at Kamul susceptible to her beauty and had been given the running of the place while she idled for enough to do. The days at Kamul were among the pleasantest of the journey. She loved the village itself with its desert nomads and Indian traders mingling with fur-clad giants from the north. And the innkeeper had adored her from the start, offering her his heart along with a free rein in the inn.

A dimple played at her mouth's corner, in spite of her exhaustion. There was another aspect of Kamul which appealed to her mightily: a unique custom which had surprised and delighted her when she learned of it.

Her smile deepened at the thought, Volcar forgotten. The innkeeper had demanded such small payment for his favours: warming his bed had proved to be of no consequence. More than once she had slept right through his gentle mounting of her!

But Volcar was a different matter. How surprised he had been when she discovered him! And what bad luck that she had chosen that time to fetch fresh hay from the stall where he was even then rising from a tub filled with dark stain!

She could see him now, when she closed her eyes: the rippling body with over-all red-gold hairiness, the startling bushiness at the crotch, the sight of his oversized manhood with its surrounding growth of red-gold hair. He had split her nearly in two more than once.

"Volcar! Can it be?"

He'd whirled around to stare at her, then a soft grin came over his face. "Well, well! The 'Countess', is it?" He got out, dripping, and started toward her. Floria, frozen in fear, watched the stiffening of the naked phallus like a bird watching a snake. "Well, minx, you took her place before; why not again? I haven't had a woman in too many nights." He pulled her dress off her breasts, eyeing them hungrily. "Too many other men have enjoyed these to suit me, but until my lips are at Valentina's breasts . . ."

With a growl he was at her, attacking her breasts and lips with a hunger that Floria knew was not for her. But the man would have her or kill her, she knew; best to make the inevitable easier and lull the beast into satisfaction as she had done before. She whispered, "No need to take me against this rough wall, Volcar, when there is straw for bedding not a foot away!"

His finger left off driving into the soft dampness between her legs and he grinned at her, taking her dress the rest of the way off almost gently. "So you have not forgotten how well Volcar oiled your pan when last we met, wench?"

Soon he was atop her on the stall floor. The engorged member thrust quickly into her nakedness soon made her forget that, once again, she was nothing but a substitution for Valentina.

"Floria?" Valentina said gently, seeing the eyelids quiver slightly. The maid opened her eyes to see her friend standing with D'Angelo just behind. "They said you were better, that you could talk . . ."

Floria's eyes sought D'Angelo's. "It was . . ." The warning in the noble's eyes stopped her from saying It was Volcar! and she finished " . . . horrible."

Nicolo came in. "Ah, Floria! Perhaps now you can give me some sense of this story. What do you know of this fellow? Pierto tells me the famous Sensin monks have successfully kidnapped him but that is all he seems to know about the man."

Floria glanced at D"Angelo hopelessly. How could she keep from saying the name in front of Valentina? ''It . . . it was a man whose evil past has nothing to do with you, sire . . ."

"He was a part of my caravan, wasn't he? Out with it, girl: who was the fellow, exactly, and what was his purpose?"

Pierto, still soft toward Floria, tried to divert Nicolo's impatient attention. "No doubt it was he, my lord, who assaulted D'Angelo!"

D'Angelo looked up sharply at the henchman. "He's right, Nicolo. He seemed to be a man perfectly capable of that or any other violent act for his own ends."

Nicolo exploded, "God's teeth, am I the only one who does not know the man? I will have his name, from one of youor, by God, we will go after him!"

"His name is Volcar, Lord Polo, and he is the mercenary who brutally killed my mother and father and swore to have me one day!"

Floria and D'Angelo stared at the girl who spoke so shakily. Valentina's face was ashen, but she met Nicolo's astonished gaze directly.

"Valentina, we prayed that your memory would stay blessedly hidden!" Floria felt like weeping, but could not when Valentina was being so strong.

"How could it, when I have been stalked by Volcar for so long! Even in Venice, I sensed the evil watching and waiting. I . . . I even saw the ring he stole from my father's dead hand not once but twice. It just seemed easier, somehow, to think I was imagining things."

Nicolo smiled thinly, "Well, you will no longer have to worry about the scum, my dear, as the monks now have him, and are not likely to let him go! I will leave Pierto to relate the history of why this is so while I find Maffeo and plan further strategy for our coup on the Khan's behalf."

You bastard, thought D'Angelo angrily; not a word to Valentina about her tender feelings . . . all that moves you is your Mongol god! "Pierto, if what you are about to tell us is bloody or distressing, keep it to yourself. These women have undergone enough horror for one day."

Pierto's long yellow teeth showed in a grin. "The story is more interesting than gory, my lord! I learned most of it while lounging about in Kamul, while Floria pacified her friend, Volcar, on one side and the old inkeeper on the other . . ."

D'Angelo said sternly, seeing the fury rising in Floria's face, "Never mind that, my man!"

"Well, there's a village not two days from Kamul, where a crest of mountains overhang. Though the mountains had once spewed over the land and often burned with slow fire, the valley was fertile enough for the risk involved in farming there. It was said that years upon years ago, a holy man climbed the hollow mountain and, with great magic, quenched the fires. From things told him in visions, the Holy One decided to stay. Before long, disciples had gathered; the legend grew stronger. Then, a great monastery was built, with a fine temple to house the cult which had stayed strong ever since the mountain was made to cease its rumblings and boilings. Thus it went, with the villagers prospering and giving of their new gains annual tribute to the holy men."

D'Angelo said impatiently, "Pierto, this is a pretty story, right enough, but it does not tell us why reputedly gentle men from the Sensin monastery would capture Volcar!"

"Let me finish, sire. It seems that not long ago the mountain began its dire rumblings again, and most could see the sky red from its inner fires. What to think, but that the tribute must be doubled, then trebled? This was done, but fear mounted when the great mountain spewed ashes on the villagers, taunting them with the poorness of their gifts."

Floria's face grew whiter than ever, but she said nothing. Pierto went on in his smooth voice, "It is easy to imagine how the idea of a more meaningful sacrifice arose . . ."

Floria could bear it no longer; she put her head in her hands. "Then it was my fault that Volcar was taken!" She raised her face and told them, "I saw the inkeeper's face when he first laid eyes on Volcar, but thought it was jealousy! He . . . he called Volcar 'Fire-God' and it was not two days later that Volcar was kidnapped by the monks!"

"Then how was it your fault as you say, Floria?"

"It was I, Valentina, who convinced Volcar there was no need for keeping on with the staining of hair and body. I was the only one who knew him there, so . . ."

D'Angelo said harshly, "After all he has done to you, and to your mistress, you still pity the man?"

Floria wailed, "God help me, I do! I cannot help it!"

D'Angelo looked at the maid for a long moment, then said in a strained voice, "Well, from what I gather from Pierto's story, Volcar might need all our pity." He turned to Pierto. "Or will he be worshipped rather than sacrificed, do you think?"

Pierto shrugged. "No doubt, first one than the other." His eyes glittered. "Who knows? Perhaps Volcar will have some magic of his own. If so, he will be richer than any of us, since the monks are said to have coffers of splendid jewels in their temple!"

D'Angelo shook his head. "Not likely! Not even Volcar can control the belly of mountain fire. Still . . ." he looked through the tent opening toward Carcha, near which lay the legendary village Pierto spoke of. "Still, the man has a way of landing on his feet always, like a cat . . ." D'Angelo looked at Floria, his face closed. "I will leave you with Valentina now, Floria, since you do not yet appear recovered. However, you might count yourself lucky that the kidnappers did not take you, too, still coupled to Volcar!"

Floria wept openly when he left. "Oh, Valentina, he despises me!" She threw her arms around her friend. "Do you have contempt for me as well, for allowing Volcar to use me in Kamul?"

"Of course I do not, love! I weep with your abuse, most particularly since it is because of me, always." Floria's tears subsided as Valentina stroked her friend's limp hair into smoothness. "Think about it, Floria; you have always come between me and the evil Volcaralways! Had you not been in Kamul, had you not caught Volcar without his disguise and had you not given in to his lust, I might be in his despicable embrace right now!"

Floria shivered. "May that never happen, dear love! May that never happen!" The two girls hugged each other for a long moment, then Floria drew back to search her friend's face for the answer to the question she asked now. "You do not hate me for telling D'Angelo I still pity Volcar, do you, Valentina?"

Valentina shook her head slowly. "No, I do not. Oddly, I understand how there might be a distant parallel between the two of you. Both came from gloomy, abusive backgrounds in which survival took all your strength . . . Only think: if Volcar had enjoyed the gentle patronage of my parents as you did when you came to us, a sadly misused child of thirteen . . ."

Floria wiped a tear away. "He would be like myself: ready to lay down his life for the Cortivannis' daughter!"

Valentina smiled. "I can't quite see the mercenary being moved to that degree of nobility, Florianot with all the gentleness in the world in his background! Now, enough about Volcar for now. You must rest, my loyal friend."

The exhausted girl turned a damp cheek onto her blanket and was fast asleep before Valentina could tiptoe out.

The Venetian girl sought D'Angelo out and chided him for his roughness with Floria. D'Angelo defended himself, "I confess I had little thought for the maid, Valentina. All I could think about was how close that arrogant rogue has been to you all this time, insulting your parents' memory with his lust for their surviving offspring! Floria can be soft toward Volcar if she will, but I wish nothing better for him than that the volcanic fires blacken his body to the same colour as his heart!"

When all the camp was fed and quiet for the night, Nicolo came to D'Angelo. "So, my friend, the time has cometime when I must be off about the Khan's business. It behooves me to offer you a place at my side as we go to join the mongols in defeating Nayan."

D'Angelo said quietly, "I have no spite against the Tartar, nor loyalty to your great Khan, Nicolo. If this seems cowardice on my part in your eyes, so be it! I fought the Assassins with relish heightened by strong purpose; I will not lift my sword hand against men whom I do not hate for a ruler I do not love."

Nicolo nodded, his eyes bright. D'Angelo thought, He is glad he will not have to share glory with one he knows his equal in battle. "Well said! Actually I had hoped you would stay to help Jawad lead those left here to the outskirts of Cathay where I and my escort will meet you."

With a wave he was gone. D'Angelo stayed by the fire, determined to keep an all-night vigil over his charges. At a sound, he left his post and thus did not see a dark-robed shadow which diluted his half-empty wine cup with drops from a small vial.

When D'Angelo awoke from his drugged sleep the next morning, he knew more was wrong than his aching head.

Pia, crying and wringing her hands, told him incoherently, confirming the worst: Valentina was gone!

Valentina's mind still reeled from the speed with which her abduction had been carried out. She had not had time to scream when the three dark figures entered her tent, and, since she was soon drugged like D'Angelo, was unable to protest while being carried away.

When she awoke with the cloying sweetness of poppy juice still in her mouth, she was inside the temple of the monks of Sensin. One of the grey-robed men was leaning over her and she gave a small shriek.

But he obviously had no plan to harm her; he held a tray of stewed meat and crisp vegetables which tantalized her nose.

"No! I will not touch anything here. I demand to be taken back to my friends!"

The monk simply glided out and she was left with her hunger. A tentative nibble at the food which had been brought soon turned into ravenous devouring of the delicious meal.

Stomach full, she looked about her for means of escape from this mysterious imprisonment. She suspected that she had been brought to the same place as Volcar.

But why? As though in answer, she saw her reflection in a shiny wall of alabaster. Her hair gleamed richly, with a life of its own . . .

The same colour as Volcar's! And since he was taken by these monks to be their Fire God, then she must be thought of as the Fire Goddess!

"I have been stolen away to add strength to their supplication. Oh, D'Angelo, please help me!" Valentina sank to the floor, waiting to be exposed to some hideous fate, made worse by him with whom she would die side by side.

No one came for her, though she caught sight of several robed figures strolling in apparent disregard of her. Encouraged by her freedom, she explored the rooms open to her. Such splendor! Tapestries of gold and silver, encrusted with precious stones, hung from vastly high walls. One room was floored with lapis lazuli and mother-of-pearl. Awed, she ran her hand wonderingly over panels inlaid with carved jade and topaz.

Her bedazzlement ended with the discovery that none of the richly carved doors was unlocked. Her delusion of freedom was just that: she was indeed a prisoner.

"So, at last I may speak to you as my equal, Valentina. You are no less a prisoner than I."

Valentina whirled to the voice that had darkened many dreams. "Volcar! If I have been brought here to die, then let it at least be separate from your hateful form!"

"Do you not admire this costume? When I was robed in it, the priests threw themselves down at my feet in fealty."

The jewel-laden tunic and robe were stunning, as were the spun-gold leggings. Volcar's bronzed body and bright beard and hair indeed made him a spectacular sight. He held on his arm a similar costume that Valentina knew with sinking heart was meant for her. "Why did they come for me, Volcar?"

He moved toward her, his eyes glowing at the richness of her beauty. "Because I commanded it; I said that unless the fire-haired goddess who was meant to be my life-mate was brought, I would breathe harder on the fires, making them consume the temple!"

She stood motionless as his hand went to her night-robe, sliding it from her body in one movement. How Volcar's eyes seared her nakedness! She tried not to shiver in her hatred as he caressed first her breasts and then her womanhood, his breath coming quick and harsh. "If you will have me, then do it at once, Volcar. I will not be yours ever, not truly, and these pretenses of love are hateful to me."

He pulled her to him in a jerk, fastening his cruel lips on hers with such force that she tasted the salt of blood, either hers or hisshe didn't care. "Sorceress! Would that I had never laid eyes on you!"

"Then on one thing, at least, we agree!"

"Wench!" He crushed her to him again, this time licked her lips and breasts with a growling ferocity that made Valentina think suddenly of Uncle Fornaldo's great hunting dogs snuffling at a helpless, fell deer.

"Damn you, Volcar; behave like a mannot an animal!" With a wrench Valentina was free and stood back glaring at the man whose lust repelled her. "I have told youtake my body now, quickly, and let us be done with this torment." The beautiful eyes glowed with hate. ''But I warn you, there will be no return of passion, no response to your despicable loveplay! I will be like a stone!"

The lust was replaced in Volcar's eyes with what in a more civilized man Valentina would have sworn was a look of wistfulness. But then the hated grin was back and Volcar began dressing her in the brief costume provided by the Sensin. "Even if I could make love to you now as you implore, dear Valentina, I would not. For one reason, I love hearing you beg; for another, these fools in the temple have some fantasy of preserving your purity for reasons I have not yet learned." He lingered over a white breast, kissing it softly through the shimmering cloth. "What the fools do not know is I Will milk their temple of its wealth and when the time comes, escape with you to some far-off region!"

Valentina shivered as his hand touched her thigh, pulling the thin fabric so her form could be seen in outline. "They will never let us leave here, Volcarnever!"

"I will find a way. But now, my beauty, let us enjoy the vision of the glorious pair who will soon have the monks kneeling in awe!" He led her to the mirrored wall and Valentina stared at the spectacle of herself and Volcar side by side. Volcar said softly, knowing that she was reluctantly acknowledging their splendor, "You see? Even you must admit we are fit to rule together! And when you have swooned under me, when my passion is given its way, you will forget there was any man but your conquering Volcar!"

His mouth found hers in a bruising kiss that was ended, not by Valentina's struggles to free herself, but by two monks who then led Volcar away to his own prison.

She had no way of knowing how many hours or days had passed since she was taken from D'Angelo and the others. Though it relieved her that Volcar was being kept from her, she would almost have welcomed his presence or that of any human who would speak to her.

The silence was the worst thing. It was, therefore, a pleasant shock when one of the gray-robed monks' similarly clothed servants whispered, after he had set down a supper tray, "Lady Valentina?"

"Yes, I am the Lady Valentina!" Valentina peered into the hooded face, not recognizing it, but eager for any communication. "How do you know me?"

The fellow looked around them to be certain no monks were in view. "By the description of one we both love . . . the loveliest, dearest lady who has ever graced my humble inn!"

"Floria!" Valentina cried delightedly. "Then you must be the man who was so kind to her in Kamul."

"I am the innkeeper, though I suffer even more to hear she still spoke of me kindly. It was because I sent word to the monks that my Floria's lover was stolen away . . . and now you, her dearest friend, whose name stayed on her lips constantly, are here, too." The man buried his face in his hands. Valentina could hardly make out the words. "It was wrong of me to tell them of the red-bearded one, whose strong body and handsome head befit Floria so much better than an ugly old man like me! It was wrong, and Floria will never forgive me for itthat I know!"

Valentina tried to comfort him. She began to wonder how the innkeeper came to be here, in servant guise.

He told her, then, that he had bribed one of the servants to let him take his place. His aim, he added quietly, was to risk his life, if necessary, to save his beloved Floria's friend. "Perhaps then she will forgive me and think about staying with me in Kamul as I've asked her to do!"

This last surprised Valentina, but she would deal with the unhappy thought of separation from her friend after she escaped. "I'm sure she will! Now, tell me how we can get out of this horrid place. I would not object to being their Fire Goddess, if it did not entail my conjunction with Volcar as the Fire God!"

The inkeep stared at her in horror. "My poor lady! You have been deluded! The monks have captured you both to be sacrificed as the Fire Devils they believe you to be! They will begin their ritual leading to your death within the hour . . . see?" He led the girl to a small window. Outside, Valentina could see a great circle of fire was building from redhot coals set in a wide ditch around the temple. On a balcony above, a great number of the Sensin were gathered, swaying and chanting.

She shivered at the droning sound. "That is the fire which will be given back its Fire Devils?"

"After much ceremony, my lady. The Sensin belong to a cult which worships fire. The foor fools who follow them think the monks preserve them from the earth's heat. You will see the validity of their awe of this magic when you see for yourself the monks walk, unharmed, the great circle of fire."

"But how . . . ? I do not understand, my friend! This is impossible!" Valentina looked back down on the bizarre setting for hers and Volcar's sacrifice. "The temple is surrounded by the ditch of coals; yet you are here and I have no burns on my own bodythough the Sensin must have brought me through the heat barrier, too."

A twinkle showed in the man's eyes. Valentina was beginning to understand Floria's quick affection for Koman, as the innkeeper was called. "This is a puzzle for you, is it not, my lady? But the secret which will be solved for you shortly must wait until I finish telling of the cult's plans for their ceremony. Victims have been chosen, you and Volcar as the most important, for throwing to the flames."

"I had heard the Sensin were a gentle lot, not bloodthirsty!"

"They are, for the most part. A few corrupt priests have convinced the others that only by destroying the offspring of the Fire Devilyourselves, as you might guesscan the mountain be rendered harmless to the people."

Valentina could see now that a long line of monks had begun a steady marching, while other grey-robed figures stirred at the coals to cause leaping flames. "I am so frightened, Koman! How can you help me?"

The man looked around carefully, then brought grey-coloured cloth from beneath his robe. "With this! It is the fireproof substance that the monks themselves use to avoid death."

He shook it out and Valentina wailed, "How can I wear it without the Sensin taking notice?" Koman smiled broadly.

"The sacrificial robe is full and thick, the better to protect you from the consuming flames." At Valentina's gasp, he hurried on. "I have seen it. The only item which requires quick thinking when the flames close in on you is the hood, which must be pulled down over your face only after the monks have watched your outer robe catch on fire!"

"You will be on the other side, to help me from the pit?" Valentina did not wish to dwell on the details of walking into the holocaust.

Koman shook his head. "I must stay here, to keep up my pretense as a servant from Kamul. But the one waiting for you will be even more anxious than I to see you escape."

Valentina's heart gladdened. "D'Angelo? He knows of this plot to have me returned?"

"An end to agony that none but a man in love can appreciate!"

She took the robe from him and hid it beneath her bedclothes, saying the warmest thanks she knew how. "Floria will thank you for this as much as I do now, friend." She hesitated, not knowing quite how to broach a subject that shamed her almost as much as it troubled her. "I . . . I must ask you, Koman, though the man in question is even less my friend than he is yours . . ."

Koman sighed, looking old again. "You wish a robe for Volcar as well."

Valentina nodded. "I should be glad to see him burn in the earthly Hell that is his just fate, but I would not wish such a hideous end to the lowest creature!"

"Alas, there is no way I can procure another, my lady." The regret on Koman's face was sincere. "Will I, do you think, be able to convince my dear Floria of my regret that I cannot help Volcar?"

Valentina smiled softly. "I think so, Koman, with my support."

He pulled his hood back over his face. "I hear them, my lady. Good luck till we meet again!"

Valentina said tremulously, "Till we meet again, Koman! Your kindness will not be forgotten!"

Apparently Volcar was not to be allowed the privilege of dressing her tonight. Valentina wondered if the monks had accorded him that privilege the first time as a reward for leading them to her.

She forgot about the horrors facing her in her fascination with the robe which the monks handed her. As she was staring at the incredible garment, one of the monks handed her an intricately carved chest, pointing to her head, and then all three left her to dress herself.

Quickly ascertaining that she was not being watched, Valentina attired herself in the fireproof garments and boots Koman had brought. Then she pulled on the robe, her eyes still held by the astonishing decorations on what was intended to be her shroud.

Gold threads wove throughout, but the greatest sparkle came from multitudinous rubies all over the dazzling white cloth of her robe. Each stone was of a colour and flawless cut that made it worth a king's ransom.

Valentina's lips showed a small smile. Let the Sensin pay for this victim's discomfort! She took off the robe hastily, extricating enough of the priceless rubies to fill a bag fashioned from her old skirt. No doubt the monks gathered up the jewels after the fires had died along with their victim.

This was one time they would find fewer of their baubles! Valentina surveyed the bag with satisfaction, before tying it round her waist under the robe. Enough to buy back her freedom from Nicolo, if it came to that, she thought smugly.

She barely got her robe on again before the monks came for her. One of them pointed at the box she'd neglected to open. "Oh . . . of course! My crown! I must not forget that . . ." Valentina's sarcasm faded when she viewed the exquisite circlet of gold to be placed atop her head; the rubies and topazes were spectacular beyond description.

One of the monks impatiently took the tiara from her, holding it while another monk pulled the combs from Valentina's hair, letting it cascade to her waist in shimmering red-gold tresses. The circlet, for all the weight of its fabulous jewels, was hardly felt through the thickness of Valentina's natural crown.

She was led outside the temple, to a wooden platform directly beneath the balcony where the monks had been chanting.

The monks were now performing their eerie firewalking ritual; no wonder they were held in such reverence, Valentina thought as she watched them stride through the leaping fire unharmed. She turned around as she was joined on the platform by two others, whose heads were smeared carelessly with henna.

So the priests had little care for their own legends, Valentina realized scornfully. No wonder they had been so excited to find true red-gold-haired victims like herself and Volcar!

"Volcar!" The man had been brought to the platform with her still in front. "I tried to save you, but . . ."

The crackling of the flames and the screams of the girl next to her as she was pushed into the fire drowned out her words. Valentina squeezed her eyes shut against the hideous sight of the blackening, twisting corpse that had trembled at her side a moment before.

Volcar had moved closer. "Valentina, listen well while I speak. You must . . ."

He was not allowed to finish. Valentina was jerked away and shoved without preamble into the ditch of fire. As she walked into the searing flames, the girl was not aware of what was happening behind her, only of the intense warmth penetrating her boot soles and face.

The hood! She remembered just before the sacrificial robe burst into bright flames to protect her face as the inkeeper had instructed her. Now if she could only see the blessed face of her rescuer . . .

"Valentina!" The call came not from the longed-for bank of freedom in front of her, but from behind. She turned and lifted her hood briefly to see an astounding sight: Volcar, with the wide grin of his mercenary days, was battling a dozen monks who wrestled and fought to fling him from the platform. Finally, with a loud shout in her direction, she saw, before lowering her hood again to the suffocating heat around her, Volcar leap into the flames, his white robe billowing like a great swan's wings in flight!

"Valentina!" This came from D'Angelo, who reached for her.

"Oh, my God! Take me away from here, D'Angelo! Take me away!" She was in his arms, then, though it was not until their mounts were miles away, down to the bottom of the mountain, that the dreadful stench of burning flesh left her nostrils.

She breathed in the clear, cold air of the mountain air, her senses returning with the realization that she was once again with her beloved and free from danger.

D'Angelo reminded her of the tiara still on her head and Valentina took it off. It was still warm and the rubies gleamed like the reflection of flames in Volcar's eyes at her last sight of him. "Will you accept it as part of my dowry, D'Angelo?"

The man leaned over to kiss her. "I will not! It's yours, my darlingand well earned, I might add!"

But Valentina concealed the crown under her robe, knowing she would never be able to wear it without reliving the horror of the time she had spent in the temple of the Firewalkers.

Chapter Ten

Kublai Khan

The only danger ahead now was Nicolo's reaction to the news of a reluctant bride. Valentina's heart was heavy over this dreaded confrontation and D'Angelo's face was pensive as the group moved to join the Polos outside Cathay.

Pia and Melisse, though, had no such solemn thoughts. They squealed and sighed alternately over the sights that marked outlying kingdoms of Khan rule. "See these roads, Valentina! So wide and well-maintained, and so many avenues! The Great Khan looks after the needs of his people well!"

Melisse added eagerly, her eyes sparkling with new zest at the approach to what would become her permanent home, "Not only their needs, Pia, but their comforts as well! See how he has had great trees planted along these wide avenues, so that travellers may enjoy their shade and beauty?" But Pia was already peering after one of the great elephants trudging ahead of them on the thickly travelled road. ''Oh, see the darling rack atop for riding! Oh, D'Angelo, can we not hire one for ourselves?"

Melisse said patronizingly, "That is no wonderful pasttime, Piariding the big, clumsy beasts! Now the carrier you see behind us, stretched between bearers is transportation more comfortable than the ponderous elephants!" The two girls oohed and ahhed admiringly as an ornately decorated palaquin passed them with its jogging bearers.

D'Angelo and Valentina exchanged smiles at this charming girlish wonder. D'Angelo shook his head to the suggestion of a more exotic vehicle, though Pia pouted. "We will meet the Polos outside Kanbalu in these oxen carts, as sensibly planned. What would he think if we ride up in more elaborate riggings? He has said we are to be kept from the notice of his emperor until the time is right."

Melisse pouted at this. I had thought to be presented at once to my new master . . ."

Valentina herself was glad of the delay in facing the man who had been magnified in her mind to be more powerful and arbitrary than any other being. "Lord Nicolo has hinted that there are many faces to these presentations, much protocol. We have placed ourselves at his mercy for all this distance, Melisse; surely you, above all, do not wish to question his actions now!"

The slave girl hastily assured her that her impatience was only born of eagerness to be part of the wonders that she knew lay ahead. "I am only eager to be certain of the Khan's pleasure with me, my lady!"

Pia and Valentina exchanged glances, the former sending with soft eyes the reminder that she, too, was eager for a new life among the palace's wondrous luxuries. "Valentina, will you object if Melisse and I fall behind a bit to practice the song we have been learning together?"

The older girl felt only the tiniest wrench at her heart. Always before, in Venice, it had been-she whose harmony had been sought by the little songbird! Now it was the slave girl, whose lower voice, Valentina had to admit, blended more sweetly. "Not at all, dear Pia. Perhaps it will keep you from teasing poor Lord D'Angelo about riding in a palaquin!"

The girl looked wistfully at another of the graceful devices which came near them. "Perhaps if you asked him, dear Valentina . . !"

The other girl laughed. "Not a chance, sly one! D'Angelo has more to think of than indulging our whims! Besides, I am spoiled forever for anything but the beautiful gondolas of Venetian canals. Now go to your accompanist, whose flute trills for your voice." Valentina waited to listen a moment to the charming duo, whose voices in harmony, with intermittant flute phrases, could surely bring pleasure to the sternest ears. Then she rode onward to join Floria whose face had been gloomy since they had left the camp near Carcha. "Floria, I have hardly had a chance to . . . Floria! Dear friend, what can it be, to bring such great tears to your eyes?" Valentina had a sudden suspicion. "It cannot be that you grieve for Volcar?"

Floria sniffled. "Not that, mistressthough I must confess I would never wish death by burning on the worst enemy. But at least he . . . he . . ." She wiped her eyes angrily, then said with more spirit, "Damn it, Valentina, at least he looked on me as an equal, more or less! How will I be regarded in this Mongol's city? Nicolo will give me to some minion or other, or I will be put to work in the harem kitchens or the like. Why should I be happy, I who have no higher expectations now than I would have if I were brought to trial for Darth's murder?"

Valentina's sadness at the thought of Floria's desire to flee the fate she accurately described was selfish, she knew. But how could she live through what lay ahead without Floria's levelheaded support and cleverness? "Dear girl, if there has ever been a loyal, loving friend, it is you! But be patient; once I am resolved of my severance with Nicolo, I will see that you are safe and well cared-for and not made a slave to anyone."

Floria's face was agonized. "Don't you see, love? If Nicolo releases you, he will no doubt take out his pique on me, your best ally! If he does not release you, it will mean you have no sway!"

Valentina felt her own tears start, as she reached inside her robe for the priceless crown saved from the Sensin. "Then let your generous heart, wherever it is lodged finally, be rewarded by this." She pressed the treasure into Floria's lap, where none other could glimpse its glowing richness.

Floria stared at the crown, speechless; then, "My lady, I could not . . . I could not accept such a gift, after I have just spoken to you of my dream of freedom! After I have hinted at desertion of yourself, how could I take such a treasure?" The tears flowed freely now as Valentina firmly pressed the girl's hands around the crown.

"To think of you free at last and possessing this assurance of a life without poverty ever again . . ." Valentina put her own hands over the maid's shaking ones. "Ah, old friend, this would be the sweetest gift of my life!"

Floria's eyes shone with happiness. "I would never part with this treasure, Valentina! Not even if my flesh threatened to fall off my bones from hunger. I would sooner starve than part with this wonder!" She reverently tucked the crown into her robe and smiled happily. "Besides, Koman promised that I would never want for anything if I came to him! Valentina, he treats me like a queen!"

"And now you have the crown for your new role!" Valentina's sadness grew at the thought of her old friend being far from her foreverbut who deserved more than Floria? "You will love having the inn for your own, and a husband who treats you as you have always deserved."

Floria's eyes danced. "Ah, but he has already vowed we will sell the inn and set ourselves up in a household as fine as any in the village. Imagine it, Valentina: your lowly friend as mistress of a fine house!"

"You will be a shining asset to Koman and all who come to Kamul, I have no doubt of it. But, Floria, be careful that your fame as Kamul's newest citizen does not spread too far; D'Angelo and I will spread word that you left us to recover from some contagious disease. If you should turn up well and happy in Kamul . . ."

Floria smiled shyly. "He calls me 'Lotus-Blossom'. None will ever hear of the old Floria again."

The impishness in Floria's eyes reminded Valentina of their youth. "I think there is something about this village, or about your suitor, which you have not told me, Floria."

The maid laughed. "You know me too well, Valentina! Well, I have to confess there is a peculiar custom in Kamul which intrigues me. You see, there is a most hospitable curiosity about the place . . ."

And she went on to tell Valentina how the practice of offering wives and comely daughters, as well as one's own lodgings, had been part of Kamul's history. "Then the custom was outlawedwhich was how Koman's inn came to be. But not too long ago, the people demanded back their old ways and Kamul once more is known for its most unusual hospitality to strangers."

Valentina chided, "I thought you were drawn to this new life because of your affection for a loving husband!"

Floria lowered her eyes demurely, "I am not a maiden, love, who would be content forever with wilted lovemaking, or one man only. Can there be any more perfect place for one of my proclivity? I can be petted by a doting husband; yet any passing fancy for handsome strangers can be accommodated without guilt!"

Valentina's tears battled with laughter. "Floria, Floria! You will never changenever! I will miss you more than anything in the world!"

Floria's tears mingled with the other girl's. "And I you, darling Valentina! I fear our paths are not likely to cross again." She leaned back to eye her friend impishly. "Unless, of course, you allow D'Angelo the pleasure of sampling the unusual customs of Kamul . . ."

Valentina said, laughing, "Never in a thousand years! It must be goodbye, dear Floria. I will see D'Angelo about an escort for you back to your new home."

And so, amid many tears and hugs from Pia, Melisse and Valentina, and warm blessings from D'Angelo and the few trusted drivers left him, Floria left for her new life.

Though Nicolo was devious in many ways, as Valentina was to learn even more poignantly later on, he had spoken the truth about the wonders of these lands ruled by the Khan. The girl marvelled at the beauty around them, at the rich farms stretched in openness to roads and rivers. Villages they passed showed disregard of outside raiders; this, D'Angelo remarked, was doubtless due to the companies of the emperor's patrols which constantly traversed the Khan's domain.

At last, after travelling through terrain marked by greater population and industry, they were close to the point which Jawad had marked as being where the Polos would join them for further instructions. "When will we tell him, beloved?" Valentina whispered as she watched her betrothed ride toward them.

D'Angelo squeezed her hand. "Leave it to me, my darling. The time will present itself, after I have learned more of how we will be treated."

Nicolo, flushed with victory over his part in the victorious deposing of the Khan's enemy, was affable. "Look, my Venetian friends!" He cried triumphantly, "Is it not as glorious as I had told you?"

His arm swept the company to a halt where the road topped a high hill range. Everyone gazed with shared awe at the beauty spread beneath. The day was clear; the walls and turning alleys of the old city could be seen. Beyond that, the new city, more spacious and grandiose, was divided by a wilderness from a great sparkling structure which Maffeo identified for the newcomers.

"It is the Emperor's chief palace." His voice was full of pride. "The tiles are gold and silver-plated, which makes that wonderful luminous effect from here. Isn't the immensity a wonder?" He lifted Pia to his horse, pointing, as one might with a wide-eyed child (which, indeed, Pia was.) "Look your fill, little one; as we draw closer, the palace cannot even be glimpsed. Nothing but the outer walls will be in your vision."

The time for Valentina's pronouncement would not be now, she realized with sinking heart, as the leader, with a few instructions to his brother, soon outdistanced them. "Will my Lord Nicolo not accompany us into the palace tonight?"

Maffeo looked a little embarrassed, glancing toward D'Angelo for compassion for his subservience to Nicolo. "Well . . . I fear not, Lady Valentina. All but myself and my relations will be housed tonight in the old city, with one who . . . er, adheres to Nicolo's every command." He coughed, not meeting Valentina's eyes, then said briskly, "Come! The Khan's curfew is strictly enforced. We must be within the gates by nightfall or not at all."

His evasiveness had not missed D'Angelo, who said firmly, "I would have a private word with you, Maffeo."

"Now? But, D'Angelo, it grows late and we must . . ."

"Now!"

Once the two were alone, Maffeo found himself glad that the coldness in D'Angelo's gaze was meant for his brother rather than him. "My lord, I assure you this is all a part of necessary protocol in procuring royal . . ."

"Whose lodging will hold us, Maffeo? If Nicolo is thinking of some trick . . !"

"No trick, D'Angelo!" But Maffeo's heart lurched at the reaction that would meet Nicolo's betrayal of Valentina's troth. He himself had avoided the thought of the lovely Venetian lady being given to the Khan; it sickened him, as many of his brother's less noble ventures often did. "The Sung Princess will be your hostess. She, being under the Khan's hand, will do neither you nor your ladies harm!"

D'Angelo's face got even colder. "She is the courtesan of your sainted brother, isn't she? Isn't she, Maffeo?"

Maffeo hoped Valentina had not overheard. He said nervously, "It is not the way it seems, good sire. The Emperor gave her to my brother as a token of gratitude the time before. The Princess knows the limitations of Nicolo's esteem, and cares only for her own well-being and that of her babes." He saw D'Angelo's face darken at the mention of children, and said quickly. "She would never dare to hurt Valentina."

"You're damned right she wouldn't . . . though I'm beginning to wonder about your charming brother!" D'Angelo's voice was full of rage. "To bring her here, to flaunt his mistress in the face of the woman he claims to love and wants to marry . . ."

Maffeo averted his eyes. It would not do for this nobleman to learn now of Nicolo's plot to present his twofold prize of beauty to the Khan! He said defensively, "The girl who slept in your room in Venice, and now in your tent . . . can you honestly speak of my brother's tarnished morals, Lord D'Angelo?"

D'Angelo smiled thinly. "That, my good Maffeo, is a question which will be answered in my own sweet time. It is none of your affair."

"Nor is my brother's use of a concubine in the many years far from home any of yours!"

D'Angelo smiled, almost cheerfully. In his anger he'd forgotten that this discovery of Nicolo's lovelife might aid his and Valentina's cause. "A point well taken, Maffeo. If I have been unreasonable against you who are blameless, I apologize."

Maffeo bowed, his heart miserable that D'Angelo's anger was more justified than the man could suspect. "The same goes for me, my friend." His teeth worried at his lower lip. "D'Angelo . . ."

The noble, who had been about to go back to his wards, lifted an eyebrow quizzically. "Maffeo?"

"My brother is wiser than you know in keeping you at once from the Khan's regard. You should hope he maintains the distance."

"You think your great monarch would take a dislike to me?"

"Noperhaps the opposite, noble! You see, the Khan is of an unusually curious nature, especially where it concerns Christians! He likes to study specimens, one might say, of this fascinating culture."

"I appreciate your warning, Maffeo. And I will go to this Sung Princess' palace to save any more uneasiness on your part."

Maffeo led the way, not revealing to the Venetian or to anyone else that he had a dread of Nicolo's mistress that matched his fear of a deadly serpent.

Valentina, still saddened by the departure of Floria and downhearted over the prospect of unpleasantness with Nicolo, paid little attention to their reception in the Sung Palace.

The woman who greeted them, however, was very interested in every detail of the European women. Her sharp eyes dismissed Pia as childish, Melisse as having no stature. But this foreign contessa called Valentina . . . !

"Your servant, my lady, while you are under my roof. I have arranged for a diversion for your two female companions while we talk together."

D'Angelo saw Valentina's startled look at the thought of being left alone with this sharp-eyed princess who regarded her so strangely. He said, under pretense of taking her heavy cape from her, "Learn what you can, Valentina; this woman knows secrets that no other could know about this place." Aloud he said most cordially, "Your highness, it would be my greatest pleasure to see something of your city, while these women take their place with your gracious household."

The princess returned his deep bow. "It will be my honour to call litter bearers to take you where you wish to go, my lord."

Maffeo stepped forward. "Princess, these arrangements exclude me, so I request you to let me accompany the Lady Valentina."

The princess' eyes glittered, but Valentina relieved her of the refusal Maffeo knew would come. "Oh, no, dear Maffeo; I know how you yearn to be on your way to your relatives. The Princess and I will do well enough by ourselves."

"She and I both being of high blood, we have much gossip to exchange between ourselves," the Sung Princess purred, smiling at Maffeo.

When the men left and Pia and Melisse were taken to hear the small group of musicians thoughtfully provided by their hostess who had already learned of their love for music, the two women of similar yet different breeding faced each other. Valentina sized the other up without jealousy: So lovely . . . all porcelain and cream in her finely cut brocades. Like a beautiful, tiny doll!

The Sung Princess, on the other hand, had to hide her emotion as she viewed the woman who, she had learned, was held most highly in Nicolo's esteem. This was no ordinary courtesan, this beauty with her natural queenliness and striking colouring! But the lovely eyes were full of intelligence; the princess decided she must go softly. She smiled at her guest in friendliness. "You must be exhausted from such a journey. My admiration is great for one of your delicacy to endure a most incredible distance. Why, I am fatigued after a day's travel to the mountains where I like to summer with my children! Come; we will have tea and leisurely conversation.''

Valentina followed her companion to a beautiful garden with trickling fountains and flora, the like of which the girl had never seen. The tiny bowl of tea which was handed her mingled its spicy scent with the greenery around her. "I thank you, Madame, though I fear my conversation will be less than sparkling."

The princess noticed for the first time the violet shadows under the girl's eyes. Oh, ho, there was more here than met the eye! "You are unhappy about being here, my child?"

Valentina reminded herself that she was the one who needed to learn from the princess. "More confused, Madame. You see, I . . . I do not quite know who you are!"

Her hostess gave a tinkling laugh which showed tiny, white teeth. "Then here we sit together, each wondering about the other's status!" She leaned forward, her black eyes hard on Valentina's. "Come, dear lady; let us be straight with each other."

Valentina said with a little smile, "I thought the people of your country were famous for speaking all around the matter in your hearts. I mean no offense by this, Madame!"

The princess gave her tinkling laugh again. "Indeed, it is true that we often play with riddles before coming to the point of matters!" She poured more tea. "But let it just be us two, not our customs and backgrounds, here together. Do you love my Lord Polo?"

The direct question caught Valentina off guard. "I . . . I admire him greatly. But not enough to marry him!"

"Marry him!" The princess' tiny mouth opened in amazement. "This cannot be!"

"We are betrothed, Madame, though I . . ." Valentina stopped, realizing the other woman was not listening. The princess' face was full of puzzled thoughtfulness.

"I have heard nothing of a presentation of the sort Nicolo would have to make for a bride blessed by the Khan . . . there has been no talk in the harems of a wedding between Venetians." The woman looked up at Valentina with pursed lips. "Does our Lord of Lords know of your presence in Cathay?"

"Your Khan? I . . . I do not think so. Nicolo told us there was much protocol, much to be done before . . ."

Again, the princess was immersed in her own thoughts, rather than what Valentina was saying. "There is something odd here. My devious master is up to something."

"The Khan plots against us?

"No, little foolNicolo!"

Valentina stared. "You called him 'master'!"

The Sung Princess sighed. "I am glad this shocks rather than pains you, my lady. I am beginning to be cured of my malice toward you as a possible rival and have no wish for your heart to suffer!"

Valentina said coolly, her anger toward Nicolo growing hot, "You are Nicolo's . . ."

"Concubine, my lady. The word holds no shame here. I was given to him by the Great Khan, who would have taken me for himself, had not my blood been that of my father's, his enemy whom he had killed."

She might have been describing a tragedy involving strangers, Valentina thought. Your Khan will never be my Khan, the girl vowed to herself fiercely. "Then it was wrong of Nicolo to bring me here. Wrong to injure the pride of both concubine and future bride!"

The princess put her white hand on Valentina's. "Can you not see that he would not have done this if he truly intended you as his honoured wife, to be sanctioned by the Lord of Lords?"

"I confess I had not thought of the possibility that Lord Nicolo might wish to be relieved from our arrangement as much as I."

The princess had a growing suspicion which she tested slyly. "I cannot believe our lord would treat you so, one of your beauty and nobility, whose girlhood he violated on false pretenses!"

Valentina burst out before she thought, "He did not penetrate my maidenhead!" She blushed at such frank talk with one whom she barely knew. "I mean, we did not . . . he didn't . . ."

The princess broke through her stammerings, her face smug at the knowledge that her suspicion had substance. "You are a virgin, then?"

Valentina's face told the princess the answer, though the girl said nothing. Again, the older woman's face showed perplexity. If the girl was not a virgin, then her suspicions could not be . . .

Valentina's cool voice interrupted her train of thought. "Madame, it does not please me to speak of such intimate matters with one I hardly know."

"Even if I say I can help you be reunited with your lover without recrimination from Nicolo?"

Valentina's face showed interest, though she asked haughtily. "What right have you to assume there is a lover, Madame?"

"No right at all. But I have eyes for quality matching qualityand your fine, tall Venetian nobleman fits you as no other could." At the girl's blush, she said gently, "No need for that, now. Between us there can be no more stiffness till we discover what my beloved holds in store for you."

"You will not betray me?"

The princess said truthfully, "To what benefit? My only interest is to have you away from here forever. Then my Nicolo's love will again turn to me."

Valentina said softly, "I hope so, Princess, though I do not think Nicolo deserves you."

The silvery laugh sounded. "A pretty compliment! No, Mistress, you are wrong; Lord Nicolo deserves me welland only mewhich is why I will help you escape him and his schemes for you. Now, be off to your lightheaded friends who will do better in Cathay than one of your spirit!"

"What will you do?"

"I will start stretching out my tentacles to suck knowledge about Nicolo's plots. And when I learn what I must, I will call on your handsome noble to help me to foil them."

"You must tell me what you find out!"

"Never till the right moment. Your face, though exquisite, pictures what goes on within. This is not a game, Lady Valentina! It is a desperate bid for your safety and freedom, as well as your beloved's."

"And your exclusiveness to one you love," Valentina added softly.

The Sung Princess gave her a wry smile. "True. Now go, and keep quiet about all we have said here. Not even Maffeo, that gentle bear so long overriden by his brother, must have a hint that we two have spoken so frankly together!"

Valentina went to join the other females, who welcomed her with squealing superlatives about Cathay's musical arts.

Meanwhile, carried about by the Sung Princess' litter bearers, D'Angelo found himself amazed by what he saw in the old city quarters.

Where were the beggars, the poor, the downtrodden that abounded in thickly-populated Venice and Genoa? He smiled when he recalled Maffeo's humorous quote from his Khan: "The Emperor forbids poverty, so there is none!"

He was close to the Royal Palace gates; for a moment he was temped to go against Nicolo's embargo, but he thought of Valentina and the danger such impetuousness might bring them all.

"Can any streets be so clean?" He asked aloud of the limber palaquin bearers, who grinned in friendly manner but could not answer his language.

D'Angelo learned later from the Sung Princess that the avenues he admired were each watered and dusted before sunrise, with each citizen taking a part of the street to care for.

Again the palace was in view and D'Angelo motioned his bearers to pause so that he might inspect it more carefully. Like a city within a city, the palace rose a walled level above the old city parts. The wilderness glimpsed from afar was surrounded by a sparkling stream made by man to look like nature's work. Across it, D'Angelo could see a garden; the scent therein enticed his nose, since each shrub had been chosen for its sweetness. White deer grazed there, next to an island isolated by a moat where fowls of many species fluttered in safety. Though natural beauty, for the most part, was the theme, statues and graceful garden houses were placed about to indicate the garden spot was intended for man's use, not only nature's. But the idyllic perusal ended for D'Angelo with the sound of a warning bell. Curfew! D'Angelo knew no man dared leave his house after the hour set by the Khan.

Such absolute power, D'Angelo thought, should belong to no one man. He thought of Venice, imperfect homeland, yet where no curfew held a man from going about his business and pleasure at will. If the Doge were to dictate Venetians' comings and goings by a bell's ringing, he would be scathingly ridiculed!

But here D'Angelo saw not one movement but his own hurried return to the Sung Palace. "Absolute authority, this ruler has . . . and power to back him, none questioning his least word!" D'Angelo hardly knew he was speaking aloud.

He was realizing for the first time the credibility of Nicolo's early warnings.

For the first time, the Venetian saw with cold certainty that the Polos were right: here was an emperor who was capable of overpowering the world!

He lapsed into gloom which he tried to dispel by reminding himself of the vast deserts and mountains which lay between Venice and the Khan's vast domains. And even more cheering was the memory of a small thing Nicolo had let slip about his emperor: how the Kublai Khan suffered weakening from the rise of blood to his head on occasion.

This brought the noble's thought round to Nicolo again. How devious of the adventurer to flatter the Khan's mightiness on one hand and foster his superstitions concerning Rome on the other!

Never mind Nicolo and his Khan! Inside the palace where he now descended lay one who was more precious to D'Angelo than a million Nicolos and Kublai Khans!

As D'Angelo joined the females in the Sung Palace to tell them of the wondrous sights he had seen, Nicolo and Marco were brought secretly before the Khan. As the Polos already knew, the emperor was in the habit of arranging such meetings in a devious fashion, in order to control events as he chose.

The Khan was more worried about rebellions festering in his outlying kingdom than most men knew. Nicolo had proved his trustworthiness and could be relied on for honest reports of dissension in the provinces. The Khan was eager to get these opinions and others from this foreign-born adventurer whose eyes and ears were as keen as his brain. His eagerness made him wave aside protocol and unease in his visitors.

Marco, having learned of the great humility required from all who came in the presence of the monarch, was impressed with his father's stature here.

"Well, Nicolo, you are a faithful servant. I am pleased!"

"Highest Excellency, your pardon, but I fear I have failed in your commission. My brother Maffeo and I come with no new Christians for you but my own blood son, whom you see at my side."

"He is very like yourself. I look on him kindly."

"Then, Lord of the Earth, I dedicate the youth to your service, if this pleases you."

"It pleases me greatly; I accept your gracious gift. But where are the magicians of Rome? I am told none came with you. And what of the vessel of oil?"

"Lord of Lords, this last I could do. The Oil of Jerusalem is concealed within my baggage, and will be presented at a time of your choosing."

The Khan's smoothness dissipated. "Why will Rome have no other trade with me, Nicolo? Do not hunt for flowery excuses; tell me the truth as you know it. Have they no regard for me? Do they think my empire crumbles and all my fires are smothered?"

"Lord of the Earth, this illusion of disregard for your powers must be explained, its reason given. The Holy Father demurs because our Christian God speaks through him, directing him to keep your reign separate from our kingdom of Christ. There is no lack of regard, only Rome trying to live by its creed of truth and goodness. Have I not heard you say these words yourself, that each man must live by his truth?"

"It is a wise servant who repeats to the master his own words. But give me also reasons for the Father of Rome sparing not one priest of the thousand I wished! Could I not be sent one paltry magician of this pious faith?"

The Emperor's voice had grown shrill. Marco took the opportunity when the black, handsome eyes were away from himself to study the Asian king. The man before him was of middle height, a bit portly but with a well-proportioned figure. The features were fine-drawn, except for a large, red-streaked nose. The complexion was not of yellowish tint as Valentina had privately confided it would be, but fair except for occasional tints of red, like deep blushes.

Just then, the Emperor shifted to his observer and Marco was transfixed by the sharp gleam of intelligence in the black gaze. The two looked at each other eye to eye for a long moment. Nicolo, watching this exchange of observation, was pleased to see his son's glance was fearless. The man could almost sense the mutual respect growing between the two, the boy and the Khan.

More confidantly, Nicolo said, "Mighty One, do not think of the lack of Christian priests as a loss for you, but rather as Heaven's purpose translated to our Holy Father in Rome." The Emperor paced about the chamber. "Well, whatever the cause for the deprivation, I am denied deeper learning of your Christian mystery." He stopped in front of Nicolo. "You have spent long years in my service; does this longevity give you confidence that you know me well? If it does, you know that I am not one who accepts the negative easily."

Nicolo bowed low. "Lord of the Earth, your wisdom is what I know best of all. It will, I feel certain, lead you to await further answers from unfolding time, which satisfies all mysteries."

The Khan laughed harshly. "Again you turn back our own philosophy on me! Well, we will leave the matter of Rome's impudence for now, but do not be satisfied that I will not come back to it!" Momentarily, the king's mien was more benevolent. "Now, faithful steward, to closer concerns! Tell me what came of the uprising Mogul of Arzingan I had you quell."

Nicolo's face and body relaxed. Here was no negative response to his Emperor! "The Mogul sucks the wind, Lord of the Earth! But not from a horse, causing trouble elsewhere; his head rides on your staff and the crows pick his eyes. We searched through his misguided army, sire, and punished those who would not be converted. Depend on it: Gog and Magog stand quiet again!"

The Emperor was pleased. "Such full strength given to my service must make you long to share the triumph with others! The long-eyed female and the biddies you have spawned might welcome their hero. Or, can it be your limbs are too fatigued to rise to manliness in the Sung Princess' bed?"

Nicolo laughed respectfully. "Mei Lei must be patient without me a night or more longer, Lord!"

The Emperor's dark eyes looked shrewd. "She was patient and quietly behaved during your absence. Perhaps she thought herself and your children my hostages to assure your return."

Nicolo kept his face blank. "Highest Excellency, I can see no reason for her thinking that, since such measures certainly were not necessary! Your mere word to Maffeo and myself would have brought us back at once!"

"No doubt. But never mind Mei Lei's delusion that I held her against her will. The woman is as you left her, and that is the important thing."

"My deepest thanks, Lord of Lords." Thinking the audience finished, Nicolo and Marco began backing out of the royal presence as was required of all subjects. But the Kublai Khan stopped them with another question. "How did you speak of me to Rome, Nicolo? Give me the exact words."

"I will not vary one word, Lord of Lords. I described your mightiness in ordinary phrases, but also in a riddle."

His Excellency leaned forward, his eyes interested. "And the riddle?"

"Thrice the Tiger walks the earth;
The Upper Kingdom to please the Sun,
The Lower Kingdom to please the Moon,
The Middle Kingdom to please himself."

"And would the Holy Father of Rome read the fortune herein?"

"Yes, sire. The Pope replied that no human man yet has come to rule the heavens or walk in the place of the dead. More, he said your kingdom will not cover all the earth while our Christian God lives."

The Khan chewed his lower lip thoughtfully. "He answers bravely, but I have seen how other gods have died. Go to your rest, Nicolo, with your fine son. Festivities tomorrow will be exhausting.''

Marco hurried to catch up with his father, when the pair were out of the royal chamber. I must confess I held my breath when you told him the Pope's answer to the riddle! I had thought the Great Khan would show more anger at such a reply."

"Make no mistake, Marco, he was furious. But the insult was so bold it caught him off-balance."

"Yet he gave a calm response!"

"The Emperor is no fool, Marco."

"No, he is not." Marco added quietly, "I think perhaps he is a great king, father."

"That he is. But he grows older and more gentle. With good reason; your eyes did not miss the broken veins in his face?"

"No . . . they marred an otherwise fine countenance."

"Well, like all Mongols, the Khan's vicious temper can overheat the blood. His physicians warn him of the falling sickness, so His Majesty is softer with his anger these days." Nicolo chuckled. "Let us hope he wears himself down trying new beauties from his harem, boy! Such Middle Kingdom pleasures will surely tame down his fierce blood".

"Father . . ."

"Enough questions, Marco!"

"But, sire, I could not help but notice you did not speak of Valentina and the others."

Nicolo's closed look shut off any more questions and Marco followed dumbly as they passed the night guard. His father spoke on another subject as soon as they were alone again. "We will, after all, go to the Sung Palace, Marco. The Emperor's mood is not such that I would spring the other members of our party so suddenly. I will work out with D'Angelo how he will slip unnoticed from the city while the festivities are held tomorrow."

"And the Lady Valentina?" Marco ventured timidly.

But Nicolo would not answer and Marco hid his worry by looking around him at the beauties of the Sung Palace.

He was denied his hope of laying eyes on the Sung Princess, however, since Nicolo's inquiry after that lady brought news that she was closeted with one of the Venetian females. Nicolo, quite honestly, was relieved that he would not have to confront Mei Lei and quickly went in search of D'Angelo.

Marco hesitated, longing to seek out Valentina to learn what she felt about the unexpected course of events since entering the city. But Nicolo impatiently called him to go with him. "Come, boy; you have no business mooning after the females' whereabouts!"

It was Pia who had sought the Sung Princess' audience, for reasons that would have alarmed more than one person in the palace. Perched charmingly on a cushion at Mei Lei's feet, the girl was speaking with great emotion of the longing she had confessed to Valentina. "And, my dear Madame, I know of no one outside yourself who could, perhaps, sway Nicolo to allow me to stay here! Already I have heard talk of my guardian spiriting those of us who will not live here back to Venice."

"You wish to stay here always, my pretty child? I confess I am honoured that you love our ways so dearly, but it confounds me that one so young would leave her close companions voluntarily!" How lovely the girl was, with her slight plumpness adding to her pretty innocence in a manner most appealing! An idea started in the princess' mind. "Melisse tells me you have a burning desire to, be a part of the Emperor's palace, that you feel the life there would please you."

Pia clapped her hands, her eyes shining. "Oh, it would, Madame! I have never wished for anything so much!"

Mei Lei asked softly, "And what of this Valentina, whom you love dearly you say, and Venice, your home-land?"

Pia's face became solemn again. "That pains me, Princess, but I . . . I have a secret knowledge about myself that only my guardian shares. It shames me so . . . in Venice I would be looked down upon, and even my darling Valentina would be the object of scorn from those in her circles . . ."

"Will you tell me, child? Perhaps then I can decide if it is wise to help you have your wish granted."

"You will not tell Valentina? I have begged D'Angelo never to divulge my secret to her, but he says he is bound to do so on my sixteenth birthday." Her face lightened. "But of course I will be here on that date, and Valentina enroute to Venice if . . ."

"The secret, child."

"It . . . it is that Valentina's father . . . that he and my mother together had me, out of wedlock."

The older woman's laugh trilled. "Bless you, child, can such a thing make you take such desperate measures?"

Pia's face set firmly. "I will not go back to Venice to bring shame on the house of Fornaldo and those I love. Valentina, being of so kind a heart, would feel constrained to acknowledge my kinship, as would D'Angelo."

"D'Angelo?"

"The woman who . . . That was his mother, Madame. My mother and D'Angelo's were one and the same. My guardian only learned of this after Don Cortivanni's death, when D'Angelo went through his papers. There was a plea to my guardian from ray real father that Valentina not be told until I, was sixteen and could be married or otherwise settled in a way that would lessen the scandal to my . . . my half-sister."

Mei Lei pointed out reasonably, "It seems to me Valentina might have been hurt more by your holding of the truth from her, child."

"Oh, no, Madame! What could be more embarassing for one of my dear Valentina's breeding than to learn she was half-sibling to one whose brain would never equal its age?" She saw the look on the princess' face and added quietly, "It was ever my cross in Venice's stilted circles that people laughed at me behind my back for my simplemindedness. Nowhere, since I left my native land, have I had to endure ridicule as I would among city sophisticates if I returned to Venice. You will help me now, Your Highness? D'Angelo tried to protect me from being ruined by would-be seducers who would take advantage of me if they could, even to shielding me within his quarters. But he cannot protect me forever!"

Mei Lei's long eyes surveyed the earnest face turned toward hers so beseechingly. "No, little one, he cannot. And though you speak of your 'simplemindedness', I find in your desire to stay here a wisdom far beyond the shrewdest brain's understanding!" She got to her feet, her mind made up. "I will help you, Pia, and I have a plan that will put one pretty bird into the gilded cage while freeing the other! Come with me!" Brushing aside the girl's fervent gratitude, the Princess swept down the corridor to a tiny room that opened to the key she produced from her brocade robe. "That henchman of dear Nicolo's did not know I watched while he made arrangements which puzzled me, until I learned from a loose-tongued minion that Lord Polo has a rare gift for his Khan!"

They went into the little room, where were stacked many containers of goods traded for on the way to Cathay. The caskets of gifts from the Sultan of Ormus were quickly pulled away by Mei Lei to allow access to a plain, dark trunk. As Pia watched, wide-eyed, the Sung Princess lifted the lid to dazzle her young companion's senses with the finery that lay within. "Madame! Oh, can any gown be made from the sky? I have never seen anything so beautiful . . . Oh, and there is another, which surely must be spun of the golden sunlight!" Mei Lei held out first one garment, then the other, which were alike yet not alike. One was midnight blue silk, sheer as a veiling, but sewn overall in a design of stars and comet-tails, these mostly of diamonds and pearls. The second, which enraptured Pia most, was of a sheer gold fabric with a myriad of flowers similarly fashioned from bright jewels. "May I try this one, Madame? It cannot be meant for me, but I long to see how it suits me!"

Mei Lei smiled. "You will have your chance to try it, Pia, but I will tell you more of this when you attend to more important matters. Go and find D'Angelo, but be secretive and sure that none sees you come into this room." The princess' eyes roamed the small room, then brightened in triumph as it lit on a tapestry hanging, the lone decoration on a plain wall. "Ah, I had hoped it was concealed from Pierto and the others still! Come, use this secret way; it leads to a back hall by which you and D'Angelo can return unnoticed."

So saying, the princess slid the tapestry aside to reveal a half-size door through which Pia scuttled without delay. "Rememberno one must know, not even Valentina! Her face would tell the tale and our scheme would fail!"

Pia nodded, her face full of delight at this gamethough she knew, as she slowed outside the secret corridor to a prim walk, this was more than a game.

It involved the happiness of all three of them: Valentina, D'Angelo and herself!

"Nicolo has sent word to the Princess that he will attend her formally tomorrow evening after the Khan's festivities. If she is found in the room with the presentations for the Khan . . !"

"Dear Lord D'Angelo, she will not be discovered, for a reason I will soon show you." With this, Pia took D'Angelo's hand and led him through the doll-sized corridor and door to the room where Mei Lei awaited them.

"Princess! I am glad to have this time with you alone! There is a matter most urgent that needs your aid!" D'Angelo's face was still hard with anger from his meeting with Nicolo. "Your lord will not release Valentina from her troth, though I know he does not love her for the reasons he says! I have not yet told Valentina of this, since I am searching for a plan to extricate her with myself from all this."

The princess smiled. "With your permission, I will reveal a plan that will benefit us all and leave Nicolo with no hope of reprisal. But, first, I must warn you to keep silent about the plan with your sweetheart, as she may unwittingly expose our scheme. And second, I must ask you questions that may seem rude to one of your breeding."

D'Angelo said grimly, "If my answer would save Valentina from that bastard, I would answer a thousand questions, Princess!"

"Then tell me honestly: is this child Pia, whose true birth I now know, a virgin?"

Pia gave D'Angelo an uncertain smile and he smiled back. "She is, since I compromised my own happiness to keep her that way!"

Mei Lei lowered her eyes demurely. "And your beloved countess, noble? Though I have good cause to think my lord Nicolo thinks her virgin, I have equal cause to think she is not."

D'Angelo's eyes grew stormy and he almost said something harsh, but restrained himself, answering coolly, "With no shame to her, since my love overpowered her. But what has this to do with . . ."

"Everything, my good noble! Pia . . . try on the dress." As the girl stepped into the shimmering gold garment, Mei Lei said matter-of-factly, "The girl could easily be taken for Valentina when the veil covers her hair. See?"

D'Angelo caught his breath at Pia's radiance. "Indeed she canif I would allow Nicolo to . . ." The full impact of what the princess had just said hit him. "Madame! Are you trying to tell me that Polo is planning to give Valentina to the Khan, along with Melisse?" He snatched up the blue creation. "Yes, of course; why didn't I think of it before! The striking likeness of the two, Nicolo's insistence that Valentina wait for blessing from his blasted Khan . . ." His face turned red with fury. "The monster! I'll kill him for this! I will strangle him with my bare hands!"

Mei Lei put a soft hand on his strong, clenched fist while Pia looked aghast at her guardian's rage. "If Nicolo's death is all you desire, then let him give Valentina to the Great Khan. The Emperor would murder any donor of a gift of a supposed virgin who was proven otherwise. Nicolo would die a thousand slow deaths more terrible than any you could inflictbut you would still be bereft of your beloved Valentina!"

D'Angelo relaxed, but his jaw still twitched at the thought of what Nicolo had been planning. "Thank God you learned about this, Princess! I would have charged the palace guards for Valentina when I learned of this and none of us would escape the slow deaths you mention!" His brow grew stormy again. "But neither can I tolerate Pia's sacrifice." His eyes met Mei Lei's over Pia's shining head. "She is a mere child in all ways, Madame! How can I let her be a gift for a man like your Emperor when she has never known any man intimately?"

Pia stepped up, saying shyly, "Floria gave me gentle schooling in such things, sire, and Melisse told me that often such great men are father-like with such as I." She smiled at him charmingly. "And, besides, I shall sing so sweetly, and behave so demurely at all times, that I think I might become a favourite of the Court!"

Mei Lei looked at D'Angelo. "I think it is prophesy, my lord. The girl will be loved for her sweet nature and protected by all who know her."

D'Angelo's face agonized. To be faced with such a choice! "Valentina will not agree to this, I know. Never would she let her friend take her place!"

"She will not know until it is too late, sire! Please let me do this one thing which will save us all and bring me happiness!" cried Pia.

Mei Lei added, "I have friends in high standing at the Royal Court, as well as among favored concubines, my lord. I will drop a word here, a hint there, and your ward will never come to harm." Her voice dropped, and her finger went to her lips. "Sh! Someone is coming. Quick, Piathe robe. We must not be found here."

They had secured the garments and were out the secret passageway not more than a moment before Pierto, with two others, were heard entering the little room.

D'Angelo held Pia closely at the door to her chamber. "You are sure of this, my little dove? I was deprived of you for all those years that I did not know of your existence; how can I let you go now?"

Pia hugged him. "Because you love me, as you have proved over and over, dear brother! I will sing even more happily all my life, knowing you and Valentina are safe and happy together!"

Valentina tossed and turned in sleeplessness in the pretty chamber shared with Melisse. What was D'Angelo doing on her behalf? Would she be forced to disclaim Nicolo as her betrothed right under the very nose of the Emperor tomorrow? She looked with envy at the slave on another couch, blissfully smiling in deep slumber. Well could Melisse sleep, with her own future decided for her.

The tapping at the door came too early; Valentina sat up and called crossly, "Who is it? It can not be past dawn."

"It is not, my lady, but Lord Nicolo has bidden us to see to your toilette early. There is much to do." The door was opened then, and Pierto entered, with two others and a woman.

"Pierto, how dare you enter a lady's private room! We are not dressed!"

Melisse was rubbing her eyes, confused at such early activity. "What, is it time for my presentation so early?"

Pierto smiled broadly. "Only its preparation, my beauty, as well as the Lady Valentina's. Why, you two are the only slugabeds in the town! Already the Khan's subjects are crowding the palace walks for a glimpse of the fine display in store. The lowliest peasants have their white squares of cloth ready to signal for the Khan's notice on this day of days."

Valentina's interest was caught, in spite of her irritation. "White squares of cloth? To wave at the Emperor?"

"Not exactly, Lady Valentina. On fête occasions, even the poorest subject can attract the Khan's attention to his appeal. But woe to him whose petition is frivolous! That fool is punished appropriately, since he wearies the Khan unnecessarily with unworthiness."

"You seem to have learned a great deal about this place, Pierto," Valentina said grumpily.

"Enough to know that we have only enough time to perfect the ladies' costumes before the parade begins."

Melisse looked at Pierto in amazement. What was this? Valentina to be decked out, the same as herself? It trembled at her lips to tell the other that something was amiss. Highborn ladies were kept cloistered during Mongol festivitieseven the wives, who complained to no avail! But the slave knew Pierto would make quick work of informing Nicolo, so she said nothing.

Valentina was not entirely easy with this unusual arrangement, either. "I do not like this, Pierto. If Lord Polo has made arrangements for my being presented to the Khan today, why has he not told me?" Her heart was beating faster; what if Nicolo had already set these matters in motion and D'Angelo did not know of it? "I wish to speak to him myself, Pierto. Tell him I await his coming within the hour."

Pierto gave her a mocking bow. "I can tell him nothing, Lady, since he has gone with his son and brother to make sure the gifts for the Khan are in order.'' He motioned to the maidservant. "Attend the women, Gengho. My men and I will wait outside to escort them to the dressing chamber where their gowns await them."

The woman moved toward Valentina, the girl's robe in her hands. "Wait, Pierto! I . . . I demand to see D'Angelo, at least!"

"He is not to be found."

"Then I will speak to the Sung Princess!" Valentina felt cold fear rise in her chest at Pierto's slow shaking of his head. Dared she scream? As if for answer, one of the men put his hand significantly on the hilt of his knife.

"Very well. But tell your minion here I will dress alone. She may wait outside with the rest of you." Pierto hesitated, but nodded; he had seen the indecisiveness on Valentina's face about raising a hue and cry. She might do it yet and cause undue trouble.

The door shut and Valentina rushed over to her private chest which held her mother's pearls and the bag of rubies from the Firewalkers. "If you mention one word about this, I'll never forgive you, Melisse!"

The slave's eyes widened as she saw Valentina conceal the jewels in her robe. "I would never do so, my lady. But why do you remove them now?"

"Because I have a feeling that whatever is planned for me at Pierto's hand will not include my coming back here with any freedom! Besides, it may be possible to bribe the maid who has been assigned to us."

"Lady Valentina, I must . . ."

"Never mind, Melisse; we must go with them now, so they will become suspicious and search for a weapon in my robe! Come." Head held high, Valentina swept out of the room and waited silently for Pierto to lead the way. When the entourage stopped in front of the little rooms holding the trunk Mei Lei had shown Pia and D'Angelo, she felt her apprehension returning. None of this was proper; Nicolo would surely never have her dressed in concert with a slave! "May I ask, Pierto, how you will explain my absence to Lord D'Angelo when he inquires as to my whereabouts?"

"You may, though it will only increase your displeasure. You, my arrogant lady, will be far from here by the time D'Angelo awakes from the drugged wine of last evening."

It was out in the open now, at least! "And these activities have been sanctioned by your master?"

Pierto's yellow teeth bared themselves in a grin. "Give me credit for some things, Lady Valentina. The potion was my own idea, since I know better than Nicolo how far the noble would go to save you."

"At least you recognize that my guardian intends to rescue me from a marriage which I no longer desire!"

Pierto looked at her gleefully. "Marriage? Mistress, my master has no intention of wedding you. You are meant for the Great Khan!"

At first Valentina could not speak from shock, but then anger came as a hundred tiny pieces of the puzzle fit suddenly together. "He could not betray me so!"

"Betray you? Lady Valentina, he pays you the greatest honour possible! He wants you for himself, that I knowbut he is willing to sacrifice his personal desire."

Rage made Valentina's voice tremble. "His personal desire! What of my own wishes? Does he think I will enjoy being tossed to this great Mongol dog like a juicy bone, to keep Nicolo in the beast's good graces?" Too late, Valentina realized her hot temper carried with it insult toward Melisse. The slave's face looked stricken. "I'm sorry, Melisse! I did not mean offense to you."

Pierto said softly, "You offend not only the slave woman, but all here, my lady. I would go more gently, if I were you, since your precious noble depends on good will to ease his way out of Cathay."

Valentina's rage turned to hopelessness. Pierto's threat was too lightly veiled to be meaningless. Her only hope lay with Nicolo, who might, if she could plead with him personally, be persuaded to relent. "Will Lord Polo come to see for himself the pigs trussed for market?"

Pierto laughed. "Not likely, dear lady, and with good reason! He knows your temper as I do. Now, let us return you to good humour by showing you what finery Lord Nicolo himself had especially designed for you." He lifted the golden garment with its opaque veiling from the trunk and shook out its glimmering filminess.

"I would like to design something special for my wonderful Nicolosomething fatally tight at his treacherous neck!" Valentina said through her teeth. "What are you doing, monster?" Pierto had come to fasten the robe Valentina wore.

Pierto shrugged and dropped his hands. "Very well, then. Do it yourself, Mistress Vixen! But do not cajole me to leave for your modesty, as I have no trust in you."

Valentina's hand lingered at the bow at her waist. "No more than I have in you, scoundrel! I will undress myself, but not until your cohorts, except for the woman, are outside. And instruct them that any scream they hear from me will be caused by your slimy touch."

Pierto's eyes kindled but he only smiled his oily smile. "They know as I do that to violate one meant for the Khan would mean slow death. Lord Nicolo would strip my hide if I ruined his gift for the Emperoras the Khan would strip his if a non-virgin were presented him!"

Valentina, intent on removing her robe carefully so the cache of rubies would not be discovered, froze at the words. Non-virgin! Her hands trembled as she folded the garment and put it into the trunk. She was unaware of Pierto's lascivious gawking at her naked beauty, so hard was she concentrating on the key to her freedom which had been unwittingly given her. "This creation is truly marvelous; even in my distress I cannot overlook artistic genius." She let the female attendant slip the gown over her body, hardly noticing the sharp little tugs and adjustments in her thoughtfulness. How to get Nicolo's ear, alone, so that she might confess her loss of virginity? Pierto could not be trusted; she must get to Nicolo! Her eyes became fearful, her manner wistful. I know it becomes me, Pierto; I can see it in your eyes. Surely you could bring Lord Polo to see the glory of what he gives away so cruelly? I would like to see for myself if he has the heart to go through with his cruel plan."

Pierto's eyes narrowed. "What, so you can claw his eyes from his head?"

"No! Oh, Pierto, have mercy! I want to beg him for one last time to take me for himself! Melisse has beauty enough to make his gift welcomehe does not need me for his Mongol deity!"

Pierto said softly, motioning Melisse forward in her gown of midnight blue, "Oh, but he does, my lady. Look at the pair of you together in the mirror. Has any mortal eye before been blessed with such a sight? Look!"

And look Valentina did. What she saw was so spectacular that she almost forgot the hatefulness of her situation: two beauties, one in the glorious cloud of night with stars and cometsthe other her golden counterpart. "Is it not awesome, my lady, how we are so much alike, yet opposite?"

Valentina nodded mutely, still staring at the picture which, she realized with sinking heart, would melt the stoniest hearteven the Khan's. Her heart was sick that she could have been so beguiled; Nicolo's scheme had begun that first night at the Doge's palace! She turned to Pierto. "Let him come to me for only a moment . . ."

But Pierto was not to be coerced. He shook his head. "I would not appeal to Lord Polo for you even if I could, Lady Valentina. If you played some trick, he would slice my ears from my head."

Melisse ran to comfort her where she had slumped against the heavy, locked door. "Mistress, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for all this! Why did you not offer him one of the stones?"

"He would only have taken it and the restfor nothing, Melisse. The man knows only one master."

"Do not weep, my lady! Someone will come to save you!"

"No, they will not! I will be given to that awful man and never see D'Angelo again." Valentina sat up, her eyes burning. "No, I will not be given to him! I will kill myself first!" She held out her hand to Melisse. "The jewelled dagger, Melisse. I know you carry it with you always. Give it to me!"

"I cannot, my lady! I cannot! When they come for us, they will kill me for letting you destroy yourself!"

"I will not use it until the last possible moment."

Melisse retrieved the tiny knife, holding it out with shaking fingers. "How can you desire death over luxury with a potentate who will surely adore you more than all the rest?"

Valentina hid the weapon. "For reasons a woman born to slavery as you were could not understand, Melisse."

"I understand that it is I who have given you the instrument for dealing death to the only nobly born woman I have ever loved!"

"And for that I thank you, Melisse, and love you more than before."

And so the Sun held the Moon closely, wiping away its tears and crooning an old Venetian lullabye.

While Valentina was steeped in misery at the turn her fortunes had taken, spectators of the Khan's pomp and splendor were viewing a wondrous parade. The youngest Polo knew he had never even dreamed of such, though he'd sucked Nicolo dry of description of these very splendors.

He had not laughed at his father's tales as the nobles of Venice had done, but never could he have imagined the grandeur of what passed before him now!

"You see, Marco, the parade in Ormus was like a mouse to an elephant when compared to this! Did I not tell you?" Maffeo enjoyed the amazement of his nephew almost as much as its cause.

The palace roads were filled with movement. Onlookers gaped at a herd of hunting lions which passed, occasionally slashing at close-pressed spectators, then audibly sighed at subsequent splendors without count.

The last to appear at the Emperor's box were the filthy, ragged Baksi, Magia to Kahnat, their arrogance in the knowledge of their magic power obvious to the now-hushed crowd. To please His Majesty, the magicians caused wine and sweetmeats to pour from the air, so that the people near them could taste and drink of the miraculous provisions.

At Marco's astonished expression, Maffeo said softly, "Did we not tell you of these wonders which reason cannot explain? Now you will believe our stories of how these Baksi can hold off storm clouds!"

Marco would not give total quarter. "I will believe that which I see myself, Uncle."

"Sh-h. The Great Khan hears a final supplicant, and then will come the court presentation. See the heralds preparing for the event?"

But Marco was seeing and hearing the ruler he was learning to admire so greatly give what the boy termed wise judgment on the supplicant's petition. "If only the Lady Valentina could be here, Uncle! I think then she would not make such scathing remarks about the Great Khan's omnipotence."

Maffeo, knowing what he knew about his brother's plans for the beautiful Venetian girl, passionately wished the opposite, but said nothing.

"I . . . I hear something, my lady. Can it be they are returning for us so early?"

Valentina roused herself from the stupor in which she had immersed herself to stave off fear. "Ah, Melisse, I wish you had not disturbed me; I was thinking of the Villa Cortivanni and how D'Angelo and I would restore it to its former glory, to house us and our children in summers to come . . ." She sat up, the repetition of the sound Melisse had heard reminding her that now there would be no children, no D'Angelo . . .

And no Valentina, if that was how it would be!

"Do you hear it?" Melisse got to her feet, frowning. "I could swear the footfalls come from another direction entirely than that in which Pierto and the others departed."

Valentina did not answer, for she was staring at the tapestry on the wall in front of them, which seemed to have sprouted hands which were pulling it aside.

"Pia! Oh, Melisse, pinch me to say I am not dreaming and it's truly my old friends who have come to save me . . ."

But D'Angelo's arms around her did the job of convincing her that she was not still in her fantasy world.

"Valentina! My darling, I was afraid when we heard no sound that it was too late!" He would have given her a hundred kisses to obliterate her happy tears, but Mei Lei reminded them of their danger.

"Time for that later, dear friends! Right now we must school Melisse in her part in this and make certain none will discover our scheme until there is nothing that can be done to reverse it."

Valentina's fog of happiness was penetrated when Mei Lei took from her head the opaque veiling that would cover her face till the Khan's presentation. "What are you doing, Madame? I confess I hate this costume as much as its purpose, but I must remind you of the consequences of removing the Sun from this pairing!"

D'Angelo said fiercely, "You will be given to no one, love, save myself and that willingly! Nicolo has foresworn all claim on our loyalties by the treachery of this plan of his."

"And Mei Lei has come up with a wonderful scheme, Valentina!" Pia's face shone from beneath the headdress and Valentina's face turned anxious as she guessed what was coming.

"Oh, no! Not you, sweet friend! I will not have it . . . my safety is no more priceless than your own, Pia!" As the younger girl, and the attending Sung Princess, were paying no attention to anything but their task of arranging Pia's hair to appear more like Valentina's, she turned to D'Angelo, beseeching, "You will not allow this substitution of victims, my lord; I know you will not! If not only because I love our friend greatly, then because of her own special place in your heart . . ." D'Angelo fought the compulsion to explain Pia's'special place' with him, reminding himself of his promises of secrecy. Valentina went on, "I have no wish to cause embarrassment to you on a subject that has, admittedly, brought me personal pain on occasion, but I must mention a strong point against this masquerade!"

Mei Lei surveyed the Venetian girl with long-eyed inscrutibility. So this highborn beauty, though of admirable character, suffers from jealousy too! It pleased her, since she had no use for placid women. "The child agonizes over this open discussion of a matter which will be explained to your satisfaction by your beloved when you are well away from here, Mistress!"

"But I must say it, Madame, as it can mean Pia's life! Her . . . her loss of virginity will be learned and considered a terrible affront to the Emperor . . ." Valentina tried not to notice the deep blushes on Pia's face. "Mei Lei, you know this is so!"

The Sung Princess smiled her calm smile. "I do . . . which is why my lord Nicolo will thank us for allowing your little friend to assume your place in the presentation."

At Valentina's confused look, D'Angelo said quietly, "Pia is a virgin, my love."

"But how could she be, when you and she . . ."

D'Angelo put his hands on Valentina's shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. "It will be explained to you, as the princess says, when we are far away. Pia wishes it so, and I bow to it, as I accept with sadness her desire to stay in this foreign land." He kissed her forehead. "Now, you must allow the substitution to be completed, before we are all caught out here."

Pia held out her arms, the happiness on her face telling Valentina that this was not all sacrifice, and Valentina embraced her tightly. The younger girl stepped back first, playful dimples appearing near her lips. "No more of that, love; you are wrinkling the beautiful costume I have been longing to try on!"

D'Angelo hid his eyes while the trade was made. Melisse lowered her veiling when Pia did, and the two stood side by side for inspection.

Valentina's smile was shaky, but she managed to say teasingly, "See, D'Angelo, how well the chit passes for me . . . though a sweet fig or two less might have made our figures more like!"

Mei Lei brought out the flute which would be Pia's only memento from her old life. "Play and sing as never before, child! Your happiness will depend on it."

"I will, Madame! Already my heart is singing with joy: I have only to let it travel to my lips."

Melisse said nervously, "They are coming! Say nothing, Pia; I will do what is necessary in communication, since your voice may give you away."

Valentina followed Mei Lei and her guardian to the secret door, her happiness bittersweet at gaining one and losing another. "Wait . . ."

She ran back to the trunk where her robe lay, and extracted the sack of rubies. "A keepsake for each of you." She handed Melisse and Pia one of the finest gems she could find for each of them. "Keep them always so you will never forget your Valentina!"

As she vanished through the door and the tapestry fell back in place, Pia whispered after her, ''Never will I forget you, my darling . . . sister!"

The Kublai Khan was so dazzling attired that Marco could scarcely tear his eyes away. But then he noticed a new wonder: at the Emperor's feet crouched a favourite tiger. Wonder of wonders, the great beast wore a jewelled harness to set off his orange and black stripes!

The trumpet flourishes died away as the Great Khan took the throne. Everyone present knew the grand occasion was staged mainly for the foreign ambassadors, so most eyes went to Nicolo, who was moving forward. Behind him came attendants burdened with treasures procured on caravan and tribute from the provinces. As each gift was presented, its bearer knelt while Nicolo described its wonders.

The Khan was pleased, one could see, as he fingered a fine collection of gems and other exquisite treasures. "You do well in my name, Nicolo and Maffeo Polo, and I shall return to you for your own use many of these gifts. Also I bequeath to you a measure of gold equal to one thousand times the weight of these jewels, along with the attendant of the gift." The Khan smiled slightly. "Keep your thanks, Venetians! You have delivered the dearest treasure of all: your son to my service."

Nicolo motioned to Marco to kneel beside him while he made the dedication. It was the boy, then, who presented the vial of Holy Oil. His Excellency peered closely at the bottle.

"Tomorrow we will have an appropriate temple built to set this burning inside. We will thus revere whichever gods are fit for honour, offending none. Let it be said again: no other deities hereby are to be offended. We order it so." All but a few thought Nicolo's presentation was ended, but the man bowed once more. "Lord of the Earth, you heard the riddle prophesying about your people: 'Thrice the Tiger Walks the Earth.' Highest Excellency, I give you now for a symbol 'The Sun' and 'The Moon'."

At his signal, a palaquin was borne into the chamber and laid directly before the throne. Nicolo reached out and drew a cord which caused the curtains to part, revealing Melisse gowned in starry-pointed blue silk and . . .

Pia! Nicolo's rigid training in control of face movement kept him from crying aloud when he saw it was not Valentina, but her young friend instead, who appeared as the gold-clad 'Sun'.

His confusion and inner fury went unnoticed, for when the lovely pair began their concert, the Emperor leaned forward in delight to clap his hands.

At this sign of royal pleasure, the spectators in the chamber unleashed a sigh of amazement that had been withheld till now. The sight of twinned beauty, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night, was awesome in itself. But for two such lustrous glories to have the added appeal of talent to give off such finely-tuned harmony . . . !

Nicolo bowed low at his master's sign of appreciation, the better to hide the fact his eyes had turned to ice with his heart. It was all he could do to contain himself until the royal dismissal, when he could dash away to find Pierto waiting in fear and trembling back at the Sung Palace.

Maffeo kept a calming hand on his brother's raised fist as the man blazed out at his henchman. "Filth! Scum! It can only be you in collusion with the Venetian noble who has ruined me forever in the eyes of the Khan!"

Pierto's face was slack with terror. Maffeo, who had told him of the turn of events, had been moved to believe that the man was innocent of this serious prank by his honest astonishment. "It was not I, my lord! May my poor body be whipped to quivering jelly if it was I who aided in this masquerade . . . but it was not, sire; I swear it! I even took much upon myself and had the Lord D'Angelo's evening wine drugged . . ."

"Which he did not drink, as I warned him of the possibility of such trickery." Mei Lei's cool voice made all heads turn. She bowed speaking authoritatively before Nicolo's anger could turn on her. "Be thankful that Lord D'Angelo retrieved his sweetheart and saved you from disgrace, my Nicolo."

"You have learned crooked speech from the Venetian, Princess! Pia was long ago deflowered by your precious new friend . . ."

Mei Lei said quietly, "She is as pure as the day she was born, my lord; you have my word on it. It is Valentina who would have caused your downfall from grace!"

Pierto was dismissed as Nicolo would never again be convinced of the man's total loyalty, and Mei Lei told her master the secrets she knew.

When Maffeo and Nicolo were once again by themselves, the latter said in bitter tones, "It maddens me more than I can say, brotherso much that I am tempted to ride after them!"

Maffeo looked alarmed. "A foolish mistake that would be, Nicolo! D'Angelo would have no choice but to try to kill you!" He said more lightly, "Besides, how can your heart be maddened by an act that was no less deceitful than your own intentions toward the Lady Valentina?"

Nicolo turned his large eyes on his brother. "That angers me less than another, Maffeo. After all, you are right that our deviousness was equal in the end. No, what infuriates me far more is the knowledge that all along, I might have satisfied my lust for the beautiful Venetian instead of saving her for her lover!"

Mei Lei was surprised, when she returned with wine for all, to find the brothers chuckling together. It is a worthy man who is able to laugh at himself! She thought warmly as she stealthily regarded Nicolo's fine, strong figure.

Nicolo took his goblet and touched it to Maffeo's. "Let us drink to the Venetians' safe conduct out of our lives forever, my brother!"

But it was the Sung Princess whose eyes his caught with meaningful expression.

Mei Lei knew, with tingling anticipation, that her bed would not be cold that night and lowered her long eyes to hide the smugness therein. Two cats could not drink happily from the same bowl of milk!

"I, too, wish that the pair will never come back to Cathay, my lords, and for myself will not miss them."

Nicolo drained his goblet and for a moment saw in the glass an illusion like one might see caused by the desert sun: a laughing, passionate Valentina in his arms . . .

Had he really loved her, then? Had loyalty to the Khan blinded him to the more important love?

He laughed more loudly than he meant to. "I will miss them; won't you, Maffeo? Like the snake misses its old, useless skin!"

His laughter, with Maffeo and the princess joining in, eased his sudden sense of loss.

Epilogue

"Come away from the window, my darling. I am jealous of the moon's catching sight of the charms that are mine alone." D'Angelo's heart stopped at the moonlit beauty of his bride as she turned from viewing the shimmering canal beneath their window. "Can you be wistful when you own my heart and that of everyone in Venice who sees you?"

Valentina came back to her husband's arms and sighed at the renewal of rapture. "Was it a dream after all, D'Angelo?"

"Ghia." He bit her ear playfully.

"D'Angelo. I will call our son 'Ghia', if we are so blessed."

The man's heart ached a little at the thought of anyone but himself enjoying Valentina's affectionate attention. "And our daughter 'Pia', no doubt!"

"No. There will always be only one Pia for me, my darling. But I do not want to talk of my little sister-in-law now, D'Angelo. I confess, if it were not for your dear body I can see and feel, and the restoration of your estates, I would vow I was now waking from a long, sometimes troubled, sometimes exciting, dream . . ."

D'Angelo gave his wife a long, satisfying kiss. "Is this a dream? Or this? Or . . . this . . ?"

Valentina smiled inwardly at the impatience of D'Angelo's hands at her gown's laces. "Careful! This is my favorite gown, and I would not have it ruined."

"Then I will solve the danger of a tear." He removed the garment with less care than promised, eager to expose the beautiful form which had responded to his passion many nights en route from Cathay.

Valentina knew that her Aunt Fornaldo's careful monitoring of her demeanor before the wedding had taken its toll of D'Angelo's patience. Her own, too, she admitted without shame! "D'Angelo, I swear one would think you had never seen me naked before!" His kisses and caresses were making her dizzy with rapture, but the mention of her nakedness made her giggle at a memory it revived. "Darling, can you ever forget how you had to turn your back when we were dressing Pia in my costume? You, who had seen me without a scrap so many times . . . ?"

D'Angelo was engaged in more serious matters and did not answer.

"Careful, my love! You will be too spent to start on our wedding trip tomorrow! D'Angelo . . !"

They made love, and then at last they slept, these two who had shared adventures and an incredible journey that could be matched by no other for excitement . . . unless it was the life-long journey ahead that had only just begun.