Haroun sat beside Radetic, taking it all in with wide, neutral eyes. Radetic wondered if the boy was becoming one of lifes perpetual observers.

Ho! Megelin! You old woman, Fuad called. Get up and show us one of your infidel jigs.

Radetic was in a daring mood. He liberated a flute from a musician and danced a clumsy flamenco to his own abominable accompaniment. He laughed with the rest when he finished.

Now you, Fuad. Put on the zils and show the ladies how its done.

Fuad took the dare, without zils. He performed a wild sword dance which won a roar of applause.

The hall was packed with victorious warriors. With the women dancing, then the teacher and the Wahligs brother doing their stunts, no one had any attention left over. Nobody noticed the slow drift of three men toward the leaders...

Till they sprang, one each at Yousif, Fuad and Radetic.

Each lifted a silver dagger overhead. Fuad stopped his with his dancing sword. Yousif evaded his by throwing himself into the screaming mob.

Muamar flung himself into the path of the third assassin. The silver dagger slashed his cheek as the killer desperately tried to reach Radetic.

Muamars wound was bloody, but should have done no more than leave a thin scar. But the old warrior froze. His eyes grew huge. A gurgling whine crossed his lips. Then he fell, stone-dead.

The assassin drove toward Radetic again, struggling past grasping hands and flashing weapons. His dagger burned with a weird blue light.

Sorcery! a woman screamed.

The uproar redoubled.

Haroun kicked the assassin in the groin. It was as savage a blow as a ten-year-old could deliver. The knife wielder ignored him.

Neither he nor his companions seemed to notice the blows raining upon them. Six of Yousifs men perished before the assassins could be stopped.

Shaking, Radetic gasped, Ive never seen anything like it! What kind of men are they?

Back! Damn it, clear away! Yousif bellowed. Gamel! Mustaf! Beloul! he roared at three of his captains. Clear the hall. Get the women to their quarters. Dont touch them! he snarled at a man who had rolled one of the assassins onto his back.

The three silver daggers lay on the dark stone floor, glowing blue.

Fuad crouched over the man who had come after him. He was pale. His hands shook. Nassef said he would send an assassin.

He waited long enough, Yousif growled.

This isnt El Murids style, Radetic murmured. Theres sorcery in this. It hasnt been six months since he preached that sermon against wizardry.

Nassef. It has to be Nassefs doing, Fuad insisted.

Something about one assassin caught Radetics eye. He dropped to one knee, lengthened a tear in the man clothing, gazed at his chest. Come here. Look at this.

A tiny tattoo lay over the mans heart. It was not clear, but seemed to be two letters of the desert alphabet intertwined.