“At once.” He led her toward the stairs. “I have only one small chamber. You’re fortunate it’s unoccupied. Your man will have to sleep in the common room or the stable.”
One chamber. Again, little room for any hidden men. “I’ll need it for only one night, perhaps less. The bath is the most important.” They had reached the room at the top of the stairs and Mario was throwing open the door. “I will need fresh soap and—”
There was someone standing at the window across the chamber.
Tall.
Billowing black cloak. Dark hair drawn back in a queue.
Nasim.
She whirled back toward the stairs.
“No.” Mario’s hand was grasping her shoulder. His tone was no longer jovial.
She kneed him in the groin.
He squealed, but his grasp didn’t loosen.
Her hand tightened on the dagger beneath her cloak.
She had no chance to draw it.
“Bitch.” Mario jerked her back into the room and cuffed her hard on the back of the neck.
Pain.
She was falling.
She mustn’t faint. Fight off the dizziness. Nasim would bend over her. She must be ready to plunge the knife into his chest.
Footsteps on the wooden floor. She kept her eyes tightly closed.
He was coming toward her.
“Idiot. I told you not to hurt her.”
“I had to do it. She tried to unman me.”
“I’d do it myself if I didn’t know your brains are all in your gonads.”
That low voice was not Nasim’s. Selene’s eyes flew open.
A woman!
“So Mario didn’t do as much damage as I feared.” The woman’s gaze was on Selene’s face. “You’re pale, but that could be fear.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You ran away.”
“I thought you were someone else. Nasim.”
“I’m not flattered you thought I was a man. But I can be much more dangerous than Nasim.” She turned to Mario. “Go get the boy Haroun and give him food. Tell him she’s bathing and will talk to him later.”
Mario scampered from the chamber.
“Who are you?” Selene asked. “Are you one of Nasim’s followers?”
“I follow no one.” The woman moved toward the basin across the room. “Sit up and remove your hand from that dagger. I’ve no desire to harm you until I find out what I need to know.”
Selene’s hand stayed on the dagger hilt as she rose to a sitting position. She sat watching as the woman dipped a cloth in the water in the basin. She was perhaps near her thirtieth year, as tall as most men, broad shouldered, and the black cloak she wore half hid, half revealed the lean grace of her body. Her face was not beautiful. Her nose was a trifle too large and her jaw too firm and broad, but her mouth was full and beautifully shaped and her large, dark eyes truly magnificent. “I‘ll tell you nothing.”
“Don’t be so hasty. You have no idea what I want to know.” She was coming back toward Selene and stopped a few feet away. She tossed the damp cloth into her lap. “Wash your face and then press the cloth to the back of your neck. I’d do it for you, but I don’t believe you’d appreciate my service, and I’m not good at that sort of thing anyway.” She sat down in a chair and stretched out her long legs in front of her. “We will talk as soon as you finish.”
Selene didn’t touch the cloth. “We will talk now.”
“I said we will—” The woman studied Selene’s expression and then slowly nodded. “Very good.”
Even seated, the woman possessed power and presence, and Selene instinctively moved to a position of less subservience. She scrambled to her feet so that she was the one looking down.
The woman again nodded approvingly. “Even better.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Tabia.”
“And you have no link with Nasim?”
“I did not say that. I said I didn’t follow him.”
“And did he hire you to bring me here?”
Tabia shook her head. “Nasim has nothing to do with this, and you would realize that fact if you were thinking. Nasim has the arrogance and stupidity of most men where women are concerned. He would not think us clever enough to lay a decent trap.“ She made a face. “And he would be right in most cases. We have let men dull our wits and lie to us for so long that we women have become a pitiful lot. Do you not agree?”
“No. I’m not pitiful. I will never be pitiful.”
For the first time, a faint smile touched Tabia’s lips. “I believe you speak the truth. That is refreshing. I cannot tell you how weary I am of whimpering—”
“Why am I here?”
“Because Tarik sent you to me.”
Selene stiffened. “Tarik betrayed me?”
She shook her head. “Tarik doesn’t have the subtlety necessary for lies and betrayal.”
“He does know how to lie. He told me he would send me back to my home in Scotland. That’s why I’m here in Genoa.”
“And I’m certain he sent a message with Antonio to the captain of his ship giving him instructions to do just that.”
“Then he didn’t send me to you. You don’t make sense.”
“Tarik is a man in conflict. Sometimes he wants things all ways. He has excellent instincts, and I think he knew Antonio was in my employ. We’ll discover how good they are tonight.” She stood up. “I’ll call Mario and tell him to bring us wine and a meal.”
“I will not eat with you.”
“Because you think me your enemy?”
Selene looked at her in astonishment. “You struck me on the neck. You lured me here. It’s a reasonable assumption.”
“But reason seldom tells the whole tale. I’m not your enemy. It may be that I’m your best friend. We will have to see after you answer my questions.”
Selene shook her head.
“One must trust one’s feelings. Look at me. You don’t really think I mean you harm?”
Tabia’s glance was bold, direct, and seemingly without guile. What of that? Selene thought impatiently. It would be foolish to trust her.
Tabia smiled. “I’m sure Tarik left you frustrated and confused. It’s a habit of his. You’ll find I’m much more open. Aren’t you curious as to what plans he has for Kadar?”
Selene froze. “What do you know of Kadar?”
“I make it my business to know as much about Tarik’s doings as I can.” She frowned. “But I don’t know why he chose Antonio to bring you here. I have to know everything that went on at Sienbara.”
“Then ask Antonio.”
“He cannot tell me what went on behind closed doors. I’ll bargain with you. You tell me what I need to know, and tomorrow morning you and the boy will be free.” She met Selene’s gaze. “Knowing Tarik, I doubt if what transpired has any import that you would believe dangerous to you or Kadar.”
“Then why do you have to know?”
She shrugged. “It’s part of the game Tarik and I play. I don’t understand this move and it troubles me.”
Anger soared through Selene. First Tarik had dared to use them, and now this woman was trying to do the same. “I won’t be part of your game.”
Tabia raised her brows. “Not even to save your Kadar?”
Selene drew a deep breath, trying to disguise that the words had struck home. “I don’t know that you can or want to save him or that he is in danger at all.”
“Oh, he is in danger. Don’t you wish to know from what direction?”
“You promise to tell me?”
“I promise,” Tabia said. “You’ll find I’m not nearly as secretive as Tarik.”
Selene’s nails dug into her palms as she clenched her hands. The woman was right: What had occurred at Sienbara presented no obvious threat. She could avoid mention of the box and the manuscript that—
“For instance, I’d wager he showed you the golden coffer but refused to let you look inside. I’d ne
ver be so rude.”
Selene’s eyes widened. “You know about the box?”
Tabia glanced away from her. “Does he still keep it with that ugly wooden statue?”
“Yes.”
“Sentimental idiot.” Tabia whirled and headed for the door.
“I’ll call for food.”
“I didn’t say I’d changed my mind.”
“You know you have.”
“Evidently I can tell you little you don’t already know.” Selene paused. “But I’ll still hold you to your promise.”
“Yes, yes.” Tabia waved an impatient hand. “I know all that. Do you think I’m a fool?”
No, the woman was intelligent, manipulative, with a reckless disregard for anyone’s will but her own. “I wished to make it quite clear.”
“And what could you do if I decided not to honor our bargain?”
“Find a way to hurt you.”
Tabia blinked. “Indeed? Interesting.” She threw open the door and shouted, “Food, Mario. And the best wine in the house.”
“THAT’S ALL?” Tabia leaned back in her chair. “You’ve told me everything?”
“Yes. I told you that you probably knew all that I did.”
“Not quite all.” Tabia wiped her hands on her napkin before tossing it aside and reaching for her goblet. “And have your Kadar’s wounds healed sufficiently for him to travel?”
“He’s not my Kadar.” Selene sipped her wine. “He almost died. He should not travel.”
“But he could?”
Selene nodded.
“Then I’d wager Tarik has him halfway to Rome by now.”
“I didn’t mention Rome.”
“I noticed that omission. But Tarik has a house there, and it’s a reasonable place to hide Kadar while he trains.”
“Trains?”
“Yes.” Tabia’s abstracted gaze was fixed on Selene’s face. “This is the first time Tarik has sent me anyone. He must have a fondness for you. Has he bedded you?”
Selene’s eyes widened in shock. “No.”
“I didn’t really think he would. You’re too bold for his current taste. He likes his women meek and honey sweet. You have nothing sweet about you.” She grimaced. “That’s good. I sicken at the taste of honey. I enjoy a sharp bite but not smoothness. More wine?”
“No.”
“One more goblet. It will help you sleep.” She got up and strode to the table by the door, where Mario had set a fresh pitcher. She carried the pitcher to the table and poured the wine into Selene’s goblet. “You’ll need it.”
“You’re certain now that Tarik purposely sent me to you?”
“There’s no question in my mind. Though he’d probably deny it.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He wants me to do what he cannot.”
Selene tensed. “And what is that?”
Tabia chuckled. “By the gods, you think I mean to kill you.”
“It occurred to me.”
Tabia’s smile faded. “I don’t kill. I would not even kill that monster Nasim. Death is a horror to me.”
Selene believed her. Every word she had spoken had rung with passion. “He wanted to keep me far away from Kadar. Perhaps he doesn’t know that you feel as you do.”
“Oh, he knows.” She dropped back onto her chair. “We know each other very well. Finish your wine and I’ll tell you how well.”
Selene slowly sipped her wine. “I don’t care about your dealings with Tarik.”
“Even when the dealings concern you and Kadar? Of course you do.”
“Very well, what is Tarik to you?”
“He is my husband.”
Selene stared at her, stunned. “His wife is dead. He told me so.”
“Rosa? She was never his wife. How could she be when I was still alive when he wed her?” She looked away. “I’m his only wife.”
“Layla . . .”
Her gaze swung back to Selene. “He told you about me?”
“He told me of Layla, his first wife. He said I was like her.”
Her lips twisted. “I assure you that was no compliment. We are not on the best of terms.”
Selene’s mind was whirling. “You said your name was Tabia.”
“A small, necessary lie.”
“Why is a lie necessary?”
“You were confused enough. I saw no need to increase the muddle. Tarik and I parted long ago.”
“But you still send spies to Sienbara.”
“Because we have a joint interest. Not for any personal reason.”
“The treasure?”
“Tarik is a dreamer. One cannot always trust dreamers to do what is best. The coffer is too valuable to be left in his hands alone.”
“Then it does contain a grail?”
Layla nodded. “There is a grail. But there is no magic connected with it, as Nasim thinks.”
“It’s the grail of the Last Supper?”
Layla shrugged. “I do not think so. Perhaps. The grail is very old and was in the Holy Land at one time.”
“At one time?”
“It came into Tarik’s and my hands in Alexandria.” She drank deep of the wine in her goblet. “Do you know Alexandria?”
“It’s in Egypt. When I was at the House of Nicholas, we had patrons from there come to buy the silk.”
“Ah, yes, I remember now.” She smiled as she saw Selene stiffen. “You don’t like the fact that I know your roots. I told you that I had to know everything about everyone connected to Tarik.”
“The connection was not by our will.”
“But it exists.” She brushed the argument aside. “Besides, you should be proud of rising above that prison where you grew up. It was a battle well fought.”
“Kadar got me away from Nicholas’s house.”
“So I was told. But you would have found a way to free yourself given time.” She grimaced. “However, it’s true, you were fortunate. I was not able to release myself from my prison until I reached womanhood.”
“Your prison?”
“I grew up in the House of Death.”
Selene’s eyes widened.
“But, of course, you don’t know what that is. I was born in a small village north of Alexandria. When I was eight, I was chosen by the priests to be brought to the House of Death at Alexandria. I never saw my parents again.”
“House of Death?”
“The house where the dead are taken to be prepared for burial. The place where their bodies are wrapped to preserve them for eternity and their souls are guided by the priests to the land of eternal joy.” Layla’s tone was laden with irony. “And I was selected by the gods to help them cross over. Don’t you think it’s a fitting task for a girl of eight years?”
“Gods? There is only one God.”
“Here in Christendom. In Egypt many still believe in the old gods. It’s such a comforting religion. One need not be good if one is rich or powerful. And it’s possible to take all of your most precious worldly goods with you. Providing you can keep the robbers from finding out the location of your tomb. Thieves have been known to strip the linen from the corpse to see if any jewels were left on the body.”
Selene shivered. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Thieves are thieves. Whether they steal from the dead or the living. In my opinion, it’s less horrible to steal from the dead. The living need their possessions.”
“From what you say, according to your religion, so do the dead.”
“It’s no longer my religion. Perhaps it never was. I began to doubt from the moment I stepped over the threshold of the House of Death. I could not bear to be used in that fashion.”
“What did they have you do?”
“I was the symbol of Akuba. I wore the mask of the jackal and stood over the body when the priests chanted and purified the body.” She paused. “And then I stood and watched while they removed the organs.”
Selene’s stomach lurched. “Dear God.”
>
“Don’t look so horrified. I grew accustomed to it. Soon I didn’t even smell the decay of flesh and the scent of incense. Children can become used to anything.”
Selene’s gaze searched her face. “I think you lie.”
Layla lifted her goblet in a mocking toast. “Wise child. I hated it every minute of my waking days and dreamed of it every night.
I wanted only to be free. I tried to run away once and they brought me back. I was beaten until I couldn’t stand. They told me the next time it would be death. I knew about death. I decided not to risk it until I was sure I wouldn’t be caught. So I stayed in the House of Death until my twenty-sixth year. I listened, I learned, I sought a way to free myself. I found it.”
“How?”
“I heard stories of a young man called Selket, who had labored in the House of Death before I came there. He had been killed by the priests.”
“Why?”
“He’d found a special treasure among the belongings of one of the dead and wouldn’t share it with them. They tortured him to death, but he died without revealing where he’d hidden it. Selket was clever. He made sure that even after his death they couldn’t find it.”
“What treasure? The grail?”
She nodded. “And if the priests wanted it, I knew I didn’t want them to have it. I would have buried it or burned it rather than let them have anything they wanted. The priests gave up the search after a few years. I did not. I saw the treasure as my salvation. For years I searched and dug and questioned. I had to be very careful not to let the priests know what I was doing. In time they began to think me cowed and submissive to their every whim. I was even permitted to go alone about the city. Then I found a clue. Two weeks before his death, Selket had visited his uncle, who was a scribe in the halls of the Great Library.”
“Library?”
“A place where thousands of scrolls and documents were kept. Scholars and scribes came from all over the world to work and visit the library. I learned Selket’s uncle was dead, but there might still be something to point the way. He was a scribe—perhaps he’d written something on one of the scrolls. But the library was not a place a woman could go without suspicion, and there were thousands and thousands of scrolls. I had to find someone to help me. I watched and studied the people who worked in the library and finally chose a scribe who seemed more approachable than some. He had lived within the walls of the library most of his life, and his work was his only passion.” She smiled. “His name was Tarik.”