"We need more men, and we want clever street fighters," said Daoud. "He is that."
"Yes, but he is the type of man I detest," said Lorenzo. "I did not need him to kill that Filippeschi bravo for me. He acts before he thinks."
"After tonight we may not have to attack the French directly," Daoud said. "On the other hand, we are sure to have further need of bodyguards, and I think Sordello and his three companions would suit. Let us give ourselves time to think. Tell him you will meet him and give him our answer in two days."
XXVI
It could not be worse, Rachel thought. She could not be more degraded. An old man, and a Tartar. Were the Tartars even human, she wondered, or was she about to commit the further abominable sin of mating with an animal?
The door had closed behind him with a terribly final sound, and he was standing in front of it, showing his teeth, large and strong and very white, in a broad grin.
She wondered if he could see her knees and hands trembling. If only she had accepted Signora Tilia's offer to release her from this. Was it too late? Could she rush past the Tartar to the door and pull it open and run away? If she did that now, doubtless the Tartar would be insulted. From what she knew about these creatures, it would be very dangerous to make him angry.
I will pretend to be sick. When he is not looking, I will stick my finger down my throat and throw up. That will disgust him so, he will leave me alone.
Or it might antagonize him enough to kill her. Her body broke out in a cold sweat. Her eyes were shut, but she heard the monster coming closer. She thought of what he would do to her, and her stomach heaved—she would throw up even without trying to. She hoped he would kill her. Better that than his animal's thing inside her.