ng of value," said Nicetas. "What can I put up against
your mail shirt?"

Grinning, Kassar stepped closer to the Greek, bringing his face down
till Nicetas's sharp-pointed nose almost touched his flat one. "You will
spend the night in my tent whenever I want you." His thick fingers
gripped Nicetas's chin, kneading the flesh of his face.

Nicetas blushed and pulled away, rubbing his chin, but still he smiled.
"If your hand is that rough, I do not wonder you need a new tent mate."

This time the boys all roared with laughter, and Kassar's eyes narrowed
to angry slits.

Daoud had never before heard anyone speak openly of what all the boys
were aware of but only whispered about. For more than a year Daoud had
seen and felt his body changing and had been tormented by steadily
growing needs within himself. He sensed that others of his khushdashiya
were tormented by the same nearly unbearable hungers. He knew, from
listening to the talk of older men, that the answer to all these
yearnings lay in women. But julbans were forbidden the company of women.
He quickly learned how to relieve himself in solitude, and suspected
many of the others did the same. But some, he was sure, made use of each
other's bodies.

"I accept the contest," said Nicetas, staring fearlessly into Kassar's
eyes.

"We must go to the naqeeb for permission," said Kassar. "But we will not
tell him the stakes. He might get ideas about you." He grinned at
Nicetas with such frank lasciviousness that Daoud, remembering how his
captors had raped him years ago, wanted to smash his fist into the
Tartar's big white teeth.

He followed Nicetas and Kassar as they went to Mahmoud's large silk tent
and explained the contest.

"Yes," said Mahmoud, leading the way back to the practice field. "Put
the one-handspan ring on, and you will ride fifty paces from the target.
You will cast until one of you misses and the other follows with a hit.
If both of you miss, you will be beaten for disturbing my rest."

The slaves changed the two-handspan target ring for the smaller one and
began pulling on the guide ropes that swung the ring from side to side.
The naqeeb paced off the distance for Kassar and Nicetas.

At Mahmoud's command, Kassar rode down the field. He made a perfect
cast, and his friends cheered. It was Nicetas's turn, and he flew past
the target with his warbling scream, standing in the stirrups. There was
something dance-like in the way he stood swaying with