crusaders in the streets of Acre and
Antioch. You have landed on the island of Cyprus. You have even gone as
Baibars's emissary to the Greeks of Constantinople. Commend yourself to
God and cast fear aside._

He visualized what the Hashishiyya called "the Face of Steel within the
Mask of Clay." What he showed this official would be his Mask of Clay,
the look and manner of the merchant he was pretending to be. Beneath it,
unseen, was his true face, a Face of Steel forged over years of bodily
and spiritual training.

The mustached man allowed most of the people in line to pass into the
city after a few quick questions.

Daoud's heartbeat quickened and he tensed when his turn came to pass.

"Come here. Lower your hood," the man said.

Walking slowly toward him, Daoud reached up and pushed back his hood.

The official raised thick black brows and beckoned to a guard. "If he
makes a move you do not like, skewer him."

"Yes, Messer Lorenzo."

Daoud felt a stiffness in his neck and a knot in his belly. King
Manfred's chancellor, Aziz, had written that Daoud would be quietly
admitted to the town.

The heavyset, black-bearded Muslim soldier took a spear from the boy
standing near him and leveled it at Daoud, his face hard.

"Now then," said Lorenzo, "give us your sword."

This overzealous guard captain, or whatever he was, was paying too much
attention to him. But to avoid more attention, he must readily
cooperate. He unbuckled his sword belt and held it out. Another Muslim
guard took it and stepped beyond Daoud's reach.

Messer Lorenzo said, "Open your pack and show me what is in it."

"Silk, Your Signory." Daoud shrugged the pack off his shoulders and laid
it on the table. He unlaced its flap and drew out a folded length of
deep blue silk and then a crimson one. The shiny cloth slid through his
long fingers.

"I am not a lord," said Lorenzo softly, reaching out to caress the silk.
"Do not insult me by addressing me incorrectly."

"Yes, Messere."

Lorenzo took the pack with both hands and shook it. A shiny circular
object a little larger than a man's hand fell out. Lorenzo picked it up
and frowned at it.

"What is this, a mirror?"

"Yes, Messere. Our Trebizond mirrors are famed in Byzantium, Persia, and
the Holy Land. I brought this as another sample of what we can offer."

"It is a good mirror," Lorenzo agreed. "It shows me my ugly face all too
well."

Daoud was relieved to see Lorenzo had not guessed