ent he tiptoed to the side of the chamber, retrieved his
disk, and dropped it into its pouch in his tunic.

Silently picking up the water bucket in front of the wine barrel rack,
he drifted closer to the guard, thinking of smoke, as the Hashishiyya
had taught him, to make himself move even more quietly.

He heard the Armenian sling his bow over his shoulder, and the
slithering of his sword coming out of his scabbard.

Daoud set the water down and crept close to the guard, utterly silent,
listening for the many small noises that would tell him where the man
was and how he was standing--breathing, swallowing and the licking of
lips, the creak of leather armor, the rustle of cloth, the clink of
steel. Slowly and very carefully Daoud reached out toward the guard's
throat, then with a sudden movement seized it, his thumb and fingers
gripping like a falcon's talons.

His action had the desired effect. The Armenian screamed, forcing air
through his constricted throat again and again.

He tried to slash at Daoud's arm but missed.

With his free hand Daoud grabbed the guard's wrist and gave it a sharp
turn. He let go of his opponent's throat and used both hands to force
his sword arm down. He straightened the arm out and brought his knee
down hard on the elbow, throwing all his weight on it.

The guard screamed with pain, and his sword clattered to the floor.
Daoud kicked it off into the darkness, then danced away. The Armenian
fell back against the spice pantry door, groaning in pain and fear.

Daoud heard muffled cries from the other side of the door. They demanded
to know what was happening. They begged to know what was happening.

The Armenian's agonized voice cried out to them, also begging, to be let
in, to be saved from the man who was killing him in the blackness.

Daoud readied himself, finding the water bucket again in the dark and
picking it up. He held it with both hands, by the handle and by the
base. He would have only a little time to use it, before they found some
way to stop him.

He heard the men on the other side of the door slide back the iron bolt.
It was the only thing they could do, Daoud thought. The other Armenians
could not bear to keep the door shut and let their comrade die.

The wooden door swung inward. Light sprang out into the cellar from only
one oil-fed lantern, but dazzled Daoud because he had been in complete
darkness since he put out the candle. He now saw the man he had been
fig