The camel extended her neck almost parallel to the ground and thundered forward, inching ahead of the two riders beside him. He could see Bandar clearly now. He was only forty meters ahead and approaching the finish line. He was just starting to swing the musket into the firing position against his shoulder. There were shrieks and gasps from the crowd, but it was all happening too quickly for anyone to react. Others screamed wildly as they saw the Scorpion suddenly stand almost fully erect atop the charging Basbusa and snap his own musket into firing position.

He had the sensation of falling even as he stood, but he knew it didn’t matter because there was only that millisecond and he couldn’t hear the crowd, or feel the camel pounding beneath him, or see anything beyond the sight at the end of his gun barrel moving towards Bandar. And then it was like looking down a dark tunnel at a distant shape silhouetted against the light, as the sight on the front of the ancient barrel came to rest lightly as a butterfly on Bandar’s back and the Scorpion discovered that he had squeezed the trigger before he had realized it.

For what seemed like minutes, but must have been a second or two at most, Bandar aimed directly at the king as he swept by the finish line, then he seemed to throw his rifle forward, as if he had been violently shoved from behind. As the Scorpion threw his own musket away and slid back down to a squatting position, Bandar started to tilt sideways. Reaching forward alongside Basbusa’s neck to grab back the rein, the Scorpion watched Bandar topple to the ground, his arms flung wide as if to catch at something. As Bandar hit the ground, Basbusa’s giant foot came slamming down on his face, crushing it. But Bandar was beyond screaming.

The Scorpion spotted a gap in the rope barrier just past the reviewing stand and swerved Basbusa into it, barely missing Royal Guards who dived out of the way at the last second. The Scorpion bent low as Basbusa raced through the royal compound, a few wild shots ringing out behind him.

But it had all happened too quickly for them to react, he told himself, as he headed for Abdul Sa’ad’s tent and Kelly. He struggled with the holster at the small of his back as he slalomed between the tents. Women screamed and figures raced back and forth without registering on him. Ahead, he could see only the black-and-white tent. In front of it the eunuch stood brandishing the sword in shaking hands.

The Scorpion managed to free the pistol just as Basbusa came pounding up to the tent. As he started to aim, the eunuch shrieked and dropped the sword. He fled behind a nearby tent, screaming.