im and took
gliding steps backward until his shoulders were pressed against a
pillar.

Mansur said in a voice that carried through the room, "The flame dagger.
Our lord has been struck down by the Hashishiyya."

Daoud almost laughed aloud with relief. With an immense effort he held
himself rigid, his fists clenched so tightly at his side they hurt.
Mansur was telling everyone who knew what had happened what they were to
tell everyone who did not know.

Would anyone contradict Mansur? No one did. Relief spread through him.

Carefully, almost delicately, Mansur laid the dagger on the floor beside
Qutuz. He stood up, wiping his hands on his mantle.

With rapid strides the commander of the halkha crossed the chamber
toward Baibars. To arrest him? What choice had Mansur made?

To bow deeply before Baibars. He made a graceful, sweeping gesture
toward the vacant throne.

"My Lord, the power is yours."

_Praise to God!_

Baibars's single-eyed gaze paused for an instant, Daoud saw, as it fell
upon each of the emirs. In the look he fixed upon each there was both
question and challenge.

Some of the emirs bowed their turbaned heads slightly. Others, like
Kalawun al-Elfi, simply looked back at him in silence, and that was
assent enough.

Baibars raised his right hand toward the vaulted ceiling, the wide
sleeve of his robe falling away from his powerful arm.

"With Your help, O God." He did not shout, but his deep voice carried
through the room.

Slowly but with a terrible firmness he walked across the room. So quiet
was the audience chamber that Daoud at the other end of the room could
hear the scrape of Baibars's boots on the three marble steps to the
throne. Baibars turned and sat on the throne, resting his hands on its
arms. He leaned back a little, and his eye seemed to rest on some spot
above and beyond the heads of those who watched him.

Mansur ibn Ziri turned to an officer of the halkha. "Let runners be sent
to El Kahira. Let them tell the people, 'Pray for God's mercy on El
Malik al-Mudhaffar Qutuz. Pray for the long life of your Sultan
Baibars.'"

_Let me hail him first_, thought Daoud. _And if he wants to kill me for
what I did, let it be now._

Trembling with exhilaration, he strode through the crowd and up the
center of the room toward the throne. "Lord Sultan!" he said in a loud
voice, "El Malik Dahir! Victorious King!"

He dropped to his knees and prostrated himself, striking his forehead on
t