cetas's mount might still be somewhere about.

Once out of the sun, he slid down from the saddle. He saw no water, but
there was a dead tamarisk, its branches like supplicating arms, at the
mouth of the crevice. He tied the pony to a limb and moved, slowly,
deeper into the shadow.

He looked down at the floor of the crevice, paved with drifting sand and
tiny pebbles. He felt a pain in his heart as he saw a trail of dark
circular spots, each about the size of his hand. It could be a wounded
animal, he told himself.

Then he saw a palmprint, the same dried color, and the pain in his heart
sharpened.

He saw the movement again, at the far end of the crevice. A figure lay
with its legs stretched out before it, its back propped against the
brown stone. Pale hands were clasped over its stomach.

He heard a low, moaning sound, and realized it was coming not from
Nicetas but from his own mouth.

Daoud ran and fell to his knees beside him. The half-open eyes widened
and the amber gaze turned in his direction. The Greek boy's face was
reddened with dust that clung to his sweat. His lips, partially open,
were so dry and encrusted they looked like scabs. Daoud put his hand on
Nicetas's cheeks. His face was burning.

Now the hurt in Daoud's heart was like death itself.

_I am going to lose him._

But this was no time to wail and weep. He must do everything he could.
It might yet be God's will that he save his friend.

_Let him live, oh God, and I will never sin with him again._

"I knew you would come." The voice was so faint Daoud could barely hear
it above the wind whistling past the mouth of the crevice.

Daoud sprang to his feet and ran to his pony to get his water bottle. He
untwisted the stopper over his friend's mouth.

The Greek boy shook his head. "I cannot swallow. Just pour a little in
my mouth to wet it." Daoud saw deep red cracks in Nicetas's lips. The
water trickled out the corners of his mouth and streaked his dusty
cheeks.

A hundred half-formed thoughts crowded Daoud's mind. His eyes burned,
and pain pounded at his chest.

All he said was "What happened to you?"

"It was Kassar," Nicetas whispered. "He got me with his first arrow.
Then he shot the pony and it fell on me. He rode me down. He took my bow
before I could get free."

_After all this time!_ Daoud thought. Kassar had said nothing, done
nothing, since the day Nicetas beat him at casting the rumh.

Two years Kassar had waited.

He be