Silky-soft fingers reached out from behind a curtained window. Rebekah examined a piece of square cloth embroidered with wires soaked in saffron-water to create a rare vermilion color. A hunting scene with the Shah’s likeness adorned by fantastical plants was stitched with such detail it resembled a framed painting. Rebekah recognized a rare work of art. “Name your price,” she whispered.

“It’s priceless. I’ve dyed the threads with my blood and glued them with my tears.”

Rebekah was familiar with that desperate tone. It seemed to rise from her own heart. She dug into her pocket and retrieved one of the gold coins, planting it into the open palm, then closed her own hand over the clenched fist. “My friend, thank whoever you believe in and include my daughter in your prayers.”

At dawn, Rebekah embarked on the ride toward the palace. The journey was short, but full of hazards. Any woman daring the open road to the king’s residence would have had to disguise herself as a man. A Jewish woman, especially one as notorious as Rebekah, would not have chosen that path, even while escorted. But Rebekah was safer than most men. The supernatural aura that encircled the mark between her breasts had transformed her into a mystic curiosity her enemies preferred to avoid. Still, she was well prepared. The whip she held in her right hand lashed out to frighten the hungry dogs that barked at Venus’s heels. Her eyes did not blink for fear of missing the slightest movement from behind trees and ruins and in doorways.

A clatter of hooves startled her. She untied a slingshot from around her wrist and out of her pocket retrieved a fistful of cork pebbles. With a hard kick and a yank at the reins, she sent Venus into a trot and directly into the heart of a group of men clad in black. She recognized Jew beaters who roamed around, searching for Jews who had the audacity to brave the alleys at dawn. She aimed acid-soaked pebbles at their faces.

Their retreating howls of pain filled the gray. “The evil sorceress!”

“The Jewish whore.” Rebekah’s teasing laughter rang out, provoking, impressing, and adding another tale of triumph to the many she recounted, with great embellishment, to her men.

She tied Venus to a tree, shouldered her bundle, and walked toward the palace grounds. She stood back to catch her breath. A shimmering mirage of turquoise, the reflection of the palace quivered on the surface of the River of Dreams that enclosed the foot of the hill and the back of the palace. Isolated logs drifted on the water. To innocent observers, this was a deceiving facade. But Rebekah was aware that beneath the calm surface of the river lurked riverain sharks, the most ferocious of their kind, and one of the few species that resided in fresh waters. This part of the king’s domain, guarded by the sharks, was impenetrable.