A moment later, the sound of voices and rushing feet beyond the doorway alerted me to the arrival of visitors, so I quickly pulled the light coverlet over myself just as a white-turbaned man with skin the colour of polished mahogany and a nose like a hawk's beak appeared in the doorway; he was dressed in white and wore a circular medallion on a thick gold chain around his neck.

Kazimain hovered behind him, her dark eyes shining with excitement. Seeing that I was awake, the man raised his hands heavenward, threw back his head, and loosed a long, heartfelt paean. Then, composing himself once more, he proceeded to my bedside and bent over me. He placed a cool hand on my forehead, and gazed searchingly into my eyes. He reached down and took me by the hand and pressed his fingers to the underside of my wrist.

After a moment, he turned and spoke to Kazimain, who ducked her head and withdrew from the room. Then, taking hold of the cloth, the man pulled the covering aside and knelt down, pressing his fingers here and there, and glancing now and again when I winced at the pain his probing caused. Next, he took my head between his palms, moved it this way and that, touched my chin and opened my mouth to peer inside.

These obscure ministrations finished, he sat back on his heels and proclaimed, "Allah, All Wise and Merciful, be praised! You have come back to us. How are you feeling?"

This he said in a soft, lilting Greek and, though I understood him quite well, it was a moment before I could make an answer. "Who are you?" I did not mean to be so blunt, but I did not think my voice strong enough for more than the simplest utterances.

"I am Farouk al-Shami Kashan Ahmad ibn Abu," he replied and lowered his head in an elegant bow. "I am court physician to Amir Sadiq and his family. To you, I am simply Farouk." He raised his hands and professed himself well pleased with my recovery. "By Allah's will, you are summoned once more to life. Greetings and welcome, my friend; the peace of Allah be with you."

"How long?" I asked, swallowing hard.

"It has been my pleasure to serve as your physician these last seven days."

Seven days! I thought. A long time to lie at death's threshold.

I was still pondering the meaning of this revelation when another man, larger and darker than Farouk, entered the room carrying a brass bowl of steaming water and a roll of linen cloth, which he placed on the floor beside the physician. "A bath for you," he said, shaking out the linen cloth into a large square. "Have no fear, Malik will assist."

On the whole, it was more in the nature of a trial than a simple bath. Malik, who throughout the entire ordeal uttered never a word, levered me up into a sitting position, and proceeded to rub me with the wet cloth. I am certain he worked as gently as he could, but even the slightest touch hurt, and when he raised my arm, tears came to my eyes. I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep from crying out, and even so did not succeed. Farouk watched the procedure with cool interest, speaking now and then an instruction to Malik, who obliged without reply. I slowly perceived that, along with his bathing, Malik was systematically moving and massaging all my joints and limbs and would not stop until every part of me had been examined in this fashion.

I gritted my teeth and endured, until Farouk commanded Malik to desist, and the abuse ceased. I lay back painful and aching, but refreshed nonetheless. The water with which I had been bathed was infused with lemon-a bitter yellow fruit highly regarded in the east, but unknown in the west-which imparted an astringent quality to the water which both refreshed and soothed me.

"We will leave you in peace for the moment," Farouk told me. "Meanwhile, I will inform Amir Sadiq of your splendid return."

"I must see him," I said, my voice urgent, if slightly ragged. "Please, Farouk, it is important."

"I have no doubt that it is," the physician replied.

"When can I see him?"

"Soon," he said. "In a day or two, perhaps, when you are feeling better. I can tell you that the amir is most eager to speak to you as well."

Despite the amir's professed enthusiasm, it was a good many more days before I saw him. Farouk visited every day, however, sometimes with Malik, other times with Kazimain. She was often hovering nearby, and it was Kazimain who brought my food each day; occasionally, she stayed and waited while I ate. I found her quiet company entirely agreeable.

Some days were better for me than others, but on the whole I felt my strength returning. I also felt the hard place inside me, gnarled and tight, clenched like a fist full of walnuts, deep down inside where nothing could reach it ever again. Two things I kept there: my will to vengeance, and the determination to free my friends.

My recovery proceeded apace, especially after Farouk succeeded in getting me on my feet: that was another ordeal, far more miserable than the bath, and far more painful-so much so that I fainted the first time and Malik had to carry me back to bed. Nevertheless, under Farouk's keen and compassionate eye, I grew strong once more. My appetite returned and I began to eat with vigour. Kazimain continued to come to my room each day-it was like the sunrise to see her each morning-and Faysal looked in on me from time to time.

Gradually, with much slow and painful exercise, the stiffness in my limbs and the ache in my joints diminished. I was able to shuffle around the bare confines of my room without collapsing or fainting. My shoulder still pained me, but I could tell that it was healing. The winding cloth was changed every few days, allowing Farouk the opportunity to examine my shoulder and arm. He assured me that no bones had been broken, and that without Faysal's crude-but-effective treatment I would not be so well off. "You were very fortunate," he insisted. "It could have been much worse."

One day, after I had expressed mild discontent at remaining in my room all the time, Farouk told me he thought it was time I saw more of the palace. The next evening, Kazimain brought a bundle of green and blue cloth tied with a wide band of red silk. This she placed on the bed beside me, departing again at once. Using my good hand, I worried loose the red silk band and unfolded the cloth. There were two garments, both thin and lightweight; the first was a long, loose blue robe, and the second a billowy green cloak like those Farouk and Faysal wore.

As no one was about, I shrugged off my mantle and, with some difficulty, pulled on the robe. I was still trying to adjust the voluminous garment when Farouk arrived. He crossed the room to me in quick steps, picked up the band of red silk and put it around my waist, tied it expertly, and suddenly the robe felt right on me. He stepped back, raised his hands and proclaimed: "As the light hidden beneath a bowl shines out when the covering is taken away, I see a new man revealed."

"I feel like a very old man," I remarked. "I can hardly move."

"The heat of the day has passed," he declared. "I have come to take you for a walk." Putting a hand to my elbow, he led me to the door and out into a low corridor that seemed to stretch on and on into the distance; doorways opened off the corridor to the right, and large, pointed windholes to the left. The walls and floors were coloured marble, and the lintels polished wood. I saw that my room was the last one at the furthest end of the corridor.

"This is the amir's principal residence," Farouk informed me. "Lord Sadiq has a summer palace in the mountains, and a house in Baghdat. I am told they are both fine houses. Perhaps you will see them one day."

His comment awakened my latent curiosity. "Why am I here, Farouk?"

"You have been brought here to recover your health," he said simply.

"So you have said. Is there no other reason?"