hting, a squat man with a thick black mustache, tears of pain running
from his eyes, his right arm dangling limply.

In the fraction of an instant before his enemies saw him, Daoud took in
everything in the spice pantry.

De Gobignon was standing just inside the door, holding his beautiful
scimitar out before him in his right hand. With his left hand he
reached for the wounded guard to pull him in. On either side of him were
the other two Armenians, bows drawn, ready to fire. Beyond them Daoud
glimpsed the Tartars, also with bows loaded and pulled, and the old
priest.

But the most important thing in there was that small, weak flame
flickering behind sheets of horn in a box-shaped lantern on the table in
the center of the room.

Daoud stepped as close as he dared into the doorway and raised the
bucket high, heaving the water in a stream at the table.

He heard a bow thrum and an arrow whistle past his shoulder. His eyes
met de Gobignon's just as the light went out.

Like a stone fired from a catapult he hurled himself, crouching low,
into the pantry.

Landing silently inside the room, he changed direction once, twice, a
third time, ending up at the door. He slammed it shut and bolted it.
They should all now be thoroughly confused.

In total darkness, seeing with his senses of hearing, smell, and touch,
he began to stalk the Tartars.

XLIV

Simon heard the thick door slam and the iron bolt driven into place. He
stood in a blackness darker than any night outdoors would have been, his
scimitar heavy and invisible in his hand. It was all he had against an
enemy who was also invisible. He felt death rushing upon him out of the
darkness.

Except for the occasional vibrations of a rock hitting the palace wall,
all sounds of battle were blocked out of the spice pantry. In the deep
silence, Simon's heartbeat thundered in his ears like a kettledrum.

_It was my stupidity that opened the door to him._

He had caught only a glimpse of the enemy. All in black from head to
foot, eyes shining through oval holes in his mask. Truly like a devil.

The stalker had deliberately doused the light, which must mean he could
find his victims in the dark.

Simon's body went from hot to cold. While he stood here helplessly, the
men with him could be dying. He tried to force himself to think, but his
mind was motionless as a stone.

All around Simon was confusion. He heard Grigor, the guard who had
staggered into the r