As the door closed behind the servant, Daoud drew a deep breath to identify the smell and felt a glow of surprised pleasure.
"Is it possible?" he said to Ugolini. "You have found kaviyeh?"
Ugolini, sitting in the big chair behind his work table, just his head and shoulders showing, smiled benignly. "You may hate the Tartars for invading the Islamic lands, my friend, but it means that we Christians can now trade with that part of the world. The Venetians have been importing the beans from the uplands of Persia in small—and very expensive—quantities. I was saving this for a special occasion. This morning, after your triumph over the Tartars and your narrow escape from death, seemed appropriate."
Daoud found the strength to stand up and pour the steaming black liquid from the pitcher into a cup. He held the cup to his face with both hands and sniffed deeply. He felt happier than he had in a long time.
Sophia, sitting on a padded bench against the wall opposite Ugolini's table, said, "What is that?" Daoud heard shrill alarm in her voice.
She must suspect it was some sort of drug, thought Daoud with amusement.
The cardinal chuckled amiably. "Only a beverage, my dear. Long used in the Orient by sages and poets. It produces a heightened state of alertness and vigor."
Daoud sipped the hot liquid. The taste was wondrously bracing after months of deprivation, but it was not quite strong enough.
"This is very good, and I am your grateful slave forever," he said. "But you should tell your servants to boil it longer."
Having sensed that Sophia feared his pleasure, he wanted to share it with her that she might see how harmless it was. He went to her and held out his cup.