May a thousand afrits hound this infidel to his death, thought Daoud angrily. "And what will you do with me, Messer Lorenzo?"
"I will examine you further at my leisure, after I have passed all these good people into the city." One violet-sleeved arm made a flowing gesture toward the waiting throng.
Daoud noticed that the tiny firewood seller, who had already passed by the guards, had paused at the inner portal. He shook his head sadly and touched forehead, shoulders, and chest in that sign Christians made to recall the cross of Jesus, their Messiah.
Why, I believe he is praying for me. That is kindly done.
Ahmad, the guard, pointed his spear at Daoud and jerked his head. Daoud stood his ground.
"What of my silk? If you keep it, I will truly have no honest business in Lucera."
Lorenzo smiled. He stuffed the lengths of silk and the mirror back into the pack and held it out to Daoud.
"There is not enough here to be worth stealing. Take it, then."
"And my sword?"
Lorenzo laughed gruffly. "Forget your sword. Take him away, Ahmad."