them. His
heartbeat was thundering in his ears and his knees were quivering.

Qutuz toppled toward him as he moved back.

"The sultan falls!" a man next to him screamed.

Hands reached out to catch Qutuz as he fell. Cries of "The sultan has
fainted!" "God help us!" "The sultan is hurt!" went up all around Daoud.

He continued to back away through the crowd. If attacked, he had
decided, he would draw his saif and fight. If he must die, he
desperately wanted to die fighting, not on the headsman's block.

He had not truly believed he could strike Qutuz down without being seen,
but no one was yet pointing at him.

"Blood!" someone shrieked. "A dagger!" The shrieks and prayers were
deafening.

All the men who had clustered around the fallen sultan backed away.
Daoud was carried farther from the dead Qutuz by the crowd. Craning his
neck over the heads around him, he could see the body lying sprawled
face down on the green marble floor, a spreading bright red stain in the
black and silver robes around the dagger's hilt.

The babble of voices was so confused that Daoud could no longer tell
what anyone was saying. Mansur ibn Ziri, commander of the halkha, and
Anis, master of the hunt, pushed their way through to Qutuz's body,
while some men still clutching scrolls ran from the chamber. They must
fear even being in the room where the sultan was murdered.

_I have killed the sultan._

Though his whole body shook with reaction and his limbs felt weak, his
heart was full of joy.

His hand on his sword hilt, Daoud surveyed the large chamber. The
Mameluke emirs were looking, not at Qutuz's body, but at one another.
And they kept glancing at Daoud.

_They_ had seen Daoud throw his arms around Qutuz. They knew who had
killed Qutuz. And they knew why he had done it.

Baibars still stood apart in a far corner. His good eye met Daoud's, but
his face was a mask.

As the last of the local men fled the place of death, a silence fell
over the room. The Mamelukes were alone with the body of their sultan.
The men of the halkha, the sultan they were sworn to protect now dead,
looked at the emirs. The only voices now were the murmured words of
Mansur and Anis as they bent over Qutuz's body.

With an effort Mansur pulled the dagger from Qutuz's back. Anis grunted
when he saw the twisting blade.

Heart hammering, Daoud tensed himself. Would Mansur turn and accuse him?
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was behind h