the secret of the
mirror, that it contained a deadly disk of Hindustan. Thrown properly,
the sharp-edged disk would slice into an opponent like a knife.

At Lorenzo's command, two of the guards searched Daoud briskly and
efficiently. They even made him take off his boots.

The fingers of one guard found the chain around Daoud's neck and pulled
on it. The locket Daoud had hidden under his tunic came out.

"What is that?" Lorenzo growled.

A chill ran over Daoud's body. Could Lorenzo possibly guess what the
locket was?

"A locket with a holy inscription in our Greek language, Messere."

"Open it up."

With a leaden feeling in his belly Daoud turned a small screw in the
hammered silver case. Perhaps he should not have taken the locket with
him. What would Lorenzo see when he looked at it? The cover fell open,
and he glanced down at the intricate etched lines and curves on the
rock-crystal inner face of the locket. When Daoud saw beginning to
appear on the crystal the face of a dark-skinned woman with accents of
blue-black paint around her eyes, he looked away.

He leaned forward to give Lorenzo a closer look at it without taking it
from around his neck. The locket's magic should work only for the person
to whom it was given.

Daoud heard a low growl. The great hound had risen to his feet and was
staring at him with eyes as dark brown as his master's. His upper lip
curled, revealing teeth like ivory scimitars.

"Silence, Scipio," Lorenzo said. His voice was soft, but iron with
command. The dog sat down again, but kept his eyes fixed on Daoud.

Heart pounding, he waited for Lorenzo's reaction to the locket. The
official grasped it, pulling Daoud's head closer still.

"Mh. This is Greek writing, you say? It looks more like Arabic to me."

"It is very ancient, Messere, and the two alphabets are similar. I
cannot read it myself. But it has been blessed by our Christian
priests."

Lorenzo let go of the locket and glowered at him.

"What Christian priests? Where did you say you are from? What is your
name?"

With deep relief Daoud stepped back from Lorenzo, snapped the locket
shut, and dropped it back inside the collar of his tunic.

"I am David Burian, from Trebizond, Messere."

"Trebizond? I never heard of it," said the mustached man.

"It is on the eastern shore of the Black Sea."

"You have come such a great distance with only a few yards of silk and a
mirror in your pack? Would you have me believe t