d hung by his right
side, but he did not draw it.

Facing the three swords, Daoud had not yet raised his hands. But his
legs tensed. He bent at the knees, shifted his weight to the balls of
his feet.

He whirled and sprang at Lorenzo. The Sicilian jumped backward, and
Daoud could hear behind him the pounding of booted feet on the wooden
floor. The dog barked furiously.

Daoud grappled with Lorenzo. The Sicilian grabbed his forearms, trying
to hold him at a distance, and his strength was almost a match for
Daoud's. But Daoud twisted his arms free, drove in, and caught Celino's
neck in the bend of his left arm. He swung him around so that the
Sicilian's body was between himself and the three attacking soldiers.
While Lorenzo stumbled, Daoud plucked the man's dagger out of its
scabbard. It had two sharp edges and came to a diamond-bright point.

Scipio leapt at him, but Daoud shifted Lorenzo between himself and the
hound, and Scipio fell back. His enraged barking was deafening, like the
roar of a lion. His fangs were a row of bone spear-points. He danced
right and left, seeking a way to get past Lorenzo to Daoud.

The joy of battle, the weapon in his hand, made Daoud feel the power
coursing through his arms. But that damned dog had to be stopped. His
teeth were as dangerous to Daoud as the curving blades of the three
Muslim soldiers. Those fangs could rip through his boots, tear the
muscles of his legs, and cripple him. He would prefer death.

Releasing Lorenzo's neck, Daoud gripped Lorenzo's wrist and twisted,
hard and fast. Biting his lip, Lorenzo resisted, but he had to turn and
bend, or the pressure on his arm would break it. Daoud laid the edge of
Lorenzo's dagger against his throat.

"Call off your dog or I cut your throat." Daoud glanced over his
shoulder to make sure no one was behind him.

"By all means cut my throat," Lorenzo flung back at him. "And Scipio
will tear _your_ throat out."

"If the dog jumps at me, I will gut him."

"The devil roast your balls," Lorenzo growled. "Scipio, sit!"

The hound stopped barking and stared at Lorenzo.

"Down, Scipio!" Lorenzo said. "He will not hurt me." To Daoud he said,
"If you do hurt me, you will suffer such things that you will beg us to
kill you."

Scipio reluctantly crouched, murder in his brown eyes and a steady, low
growling issuing from his throat. The three Muslim guards were still
moving forward, far more warily.

Daoud felt strong and able now t